The Unknown One
by TeeBee
Summary: [new chap 7.9.06]Grace never thought there was anything special about her, she was just another regular orphan. Until the day the Dursleys brought her home. With family crawling up all over the place, can the Potters finally defeat Voldemort for good?
1. The Dark Forest

Disclaimer: Voldemort, Bertha Jorkins, the Malfoys, and Wormtail belong to JK Rowling, as does the situation in the Albanian forest. Grace, on the other hand, is mine.

The Dark Forest

If you walked by number 137 Derkhall Lane at one thirty every afternoon, you would see a pale face in the orphanage's attic window. The girl's slim face would be looking sorrowfully down at the twenty or so children playing in the dirt lot that served as their playground.

Her face was framed by a wild tangle of short red hair. Her hazel eyes seemed to look right through you, with a wisdom far beyond her ten years. She would stare down at the children playing below her for as long as they played, but as soon as they went inside she pulled away from the window.

Her name was Grace.

* * *

Grace was always getting into trouble for one reason or another, whether it was her pranks or just her natural clumsiness. In the two years she had lived at 137 Derkhall Lane, she couldn't remember ever going outside for recess. She was always sent up to the attic for punishment.

She didn't mind of course. Nothing mattered anymore, not since Grammy had died ...  
  
Grace would lie in her cot at night, thinking of Grammy while she listened to the heavy breathing of the three other girls ...

Grace remembered Grammy well. She had lived with Grammy ever since she was a baby and her parents had died. Grammy was the sweetest, kindest woman imaginable, even if she was a little absent minded.

Grammy Bertha had worked in the Ministry. She had always had important guests over for dinner, and Grace was almost always a welcome guest.

And then they had gone on that trip.

Grace remembered when the trouble had started. She had been only eight at the time, but still remembered their dinner guests. They were all blonds, the father, the mother, and their son. He was fourteen, six years older than her. Grammy and the blond couple had told her and the boy to play upstairs while they talked.

"What's your name?" she had asked the boy politely, trying to make conversation.

"Draco," he had snapped. "Draco Malfoy. Why, going to laugh at me?"

"No. I'm Grace."

"Just Grace?" he had sneered.

"I don't know my last name."

"I do," he had said. "It's Jorkins."

"No it isn't," she had protested. "That's Grammy's name. Not mine. She never told me what my last name is."

"Right. Sure," he said, and then he had picked up one of her books and sat in the corner and read for the rest of the evening.

That night, Grammy had told her that Draco Malfoy's parents thought it would be a lovely idea if we went on a trip.

"To Albania," she said. "It's lovely there. I've got some cousins you should meet. We'll be leaving sometime this week, and we might not be back for a while."

And so had begun a week of endless packing.

"Grammy," Grace had asked once that week, "what's my last name?"

"I'm not sure," Grammy had replied, just as Grace had supposed she might. Grammy kept her face hidden in a suitcase. "I got you from a mutual friend between your parents and me a few months before they died. I'm not even really your grandmother, you know that, right?"

"I know."

And so they had been off to Albania to visit relatives. Grammy seemed distracted on the plane ride, but Grace wasn't worried. She often acted this way. Grammy was a writer.

Albania was very scary from Grace's ten-year-old view. Huge, dark forests all over the place. And Grammy's relatives weren't very friendly. All in all, she had had a hard week, and was glad when Grammy said they would stop at an inn for the night, instead of spending another day with her cousin.

Grammy seemed even more distracted than usual. As the clock in the hall chimed ten, she announced that she'd be going for a walk.

Then, even more suddenly, she changed her mind.

And then she changed it back.

And then finally, she had made her most amazing statement yet. "Gracie, I love you, you know that, right?" Grace had nodded, caught completely off guard at this question. "All right then, love, hop into the suitcase."

"What! Grammy ..."

"It's all right, it's big enough. You'll be fine. We'll leave all the clothes and things here then, right? We'll pretend to be checking out." Then, more to herself than to Grace, "Yes, that's what we'll do."

"Grammy – you're scaring me."

"Am I?" she had said vaguely. "Come on, then, into the suitcase." Grace, trembling from head to foot, agreed.  
  
They had barely gotten outside when they were overtaken by a man. Grace was able to hear fragments of the conversation from inside the suitcase.

"Oh – I – Ms. Jorkins. How nice to meet you ... again."

"How nice to see you ... alive ..." Then something she couldn't hear. And then the man saying, "Would you like to come on a little walk with me?"

"Yes, why not?"

And then she changed her mind. "No, I will not, and I place you under arrest."

And then, "Yes, of course I will join you."

And then Grammy and Grace inside the trunk followed the man into the forest. They had been walking for awhile when the man stopped.

"My Lord," he had said. "I can sense you. You are here, I know you are. I have brought you a witch, My Lord."

Grace caught her breath. Witches weren't _real_!

"Who is it? Dare I dream? At long last, one of my Death Eaters has returned!"

"It is I, Wormtail. I bring you Bertha Jorkins, Ministry witch."

Even now, almost two years later, Grace could barely bring herself to remember the conversation that had followed. She could only remember her Grammy, her own sweet Grammy, shrieking and screaming in pain, answering questions, and then finally ... being killed.

The men's attention had soon turned to the trunk. "Why would she bring her luggage on a walk with her, Wormtail?" the high, cruel voice asked.

"Perhaps she was ... checking out?"

"Open it up, you fool, see what's inside it!" Grace began trembling with more force than before, as she heard the man's footsteps coming closer and closer. She couldn't move. The man called Wormtail had opened the trunk and pulled her out.

"It is a girl, My Lord," he had said. "A child."

"Aaaah, a witness ..." the high voice had said. With that, Grace had felt the feeling come back into her legs. She had bolted ... had run as fast as she could through the forest, dodging around trees as she heard loud crashes behind her.

Even now, she had nightmares that somehow always ended up with her lying in that Albanian forest, dead.

* * *

Grace had made her way back to the inn and had explained tearfully to the innkeeper what had happened. The innkeeper had taken care of her for a few weeks, then had sent her back to England, to 137 Derkhall Lane, where she had lived ever since. No one from the Ministry had come to look for her Grammy.

And now Grace lived at the orphanage, waiting for ... she wasn't sure exactly. Not a family to come and take her. No, she didn't want any family besides Grammy.

But Grammy really wasn't her family, she kept reminding herself. Maybe you have a real family out there.

_If I had, Grammy wouldn't have gotten me when my parents died_, the sensible part of her mind always replied, and that put an end to the arguments.

A/N: I finally decided to stop being lazy and am putting some chapters together and things like that. I also did a little light editing, nothing major. Thanks everyone for all the reviews so far. You make me so happy!


	2. Foster Parents

Foster Parents

The summer days at 137 Derkhall Lane all passed pretty much the same. Grace would get in and out of trouble like a slippery serpent, and otherwise die of boredom. Or she would have if it hadn't been for Sarah.

Sarah was the youngest child at the orphanage, only a year old. She was an adorable little baby, but she loved Grace most of all for some reason. So Grace divided her summer days between taking care of Sarah and pulling pranks on everyone.

She was lying on her cot in the dorm, dying of boredom, when the director, a woman with eyes that bugged out of her head, came in.

"Grace?"

She sat up. "I haven't done anything," she said dully. "I've been here all afternoon, Mrs. Starling."

"I know that," Mrs. Starling said. "I've had a call this morning. Seems a family has just cleared with the Foster Agency and it sounds like they'd be perfect for you."

"For me?" Grace looked at her skeptically, her expression clearly pronounced. They had looked at many families together, but none had ever seemed "perfect" for her.

"Well, you and Sarah," said Mrs. Starling.

"Sarah." _Of course. They always go for the baby,_ she thought. _Always_.

"And they'll be here in a half hour, so freshen up and be down in my office at that time and please don't be late," Mrs. Starling said, and rushed out.

Grace sighed and collapsed on the cot again. She was almost eleven, and knew how these things worked. They'd end up taking Sarah home and she'd never see that cute, dimpled baby again. She rolled over onto her side and promptly fell asleep.  
  
--------------------------

Grace woke abruptly and rolled over to check the time. With a jolt she realized it was almost fifteen minutes after the time she was supposed to meet Mrs. Starling in the office. She jumped up and started running through the halls, trying to ignore her rumpled clothes, messy hair, and smelly breath. She arrived, panting, at the office door, knocked briefly, and let herself in.

There were six people waiting in the office, Mrs. Starling, Sarah, and four people who were supposed to be her foster family. Grace's hazel eyes took in all four of them, the round, heavy man, the round, heavy boy, the short, skinny woman, and the short, skinny boy. Nothing particularly interesting about any of them. She directed her attention to Mrs. Starling instead.

"Grace, now that you are finally here we can begin."  
  
--------------------------

They all emerged from her office an hour later. Sarah was asleep on Grace's shoulder, and all the rest of the adults looked a bit dazed. Grace had a scowl on her face, but no one except the short, skinny boy noticed. Harry, she corrected herself. Harry Dursley.

He and the rest of the family could go rot in the Albanian forest for all she cared.

Mrs. Starling had been the only one impressed by the interrogation. Later that night she had called Grace back into her office.

"Well, what did you think of the Dursleys?" she asked impatiently.

Grace twirled a short red tangle of hair around her finger, stalling for time. "They seemed ... nice ... I suppose ..."

"Come on with it, girl, would you like to live with them or not?" Grace stared down at her lap.

"I don't know."

"Of course you do."

She glared up at Mrs. Starling. "I thought they were sort of ... weird ..."

Mrs. Starling sniffed. "Oh. Well, you might as well give them a try, right? Don't want to live here forever, do you?"

Grace sighed. "No."

Mrs. Starling's buggy eyes widened. She knew she had won. "All right then. I'll call them back here tomorrow and they can sign the papers. Why don't you run along to bed now?"

Grace nodded, leapt from her seat, and ran down the deserted halls to her dorm. She slammed the door behind her, shaking. Just like that, she was going to get shipped off someplace, to live with those weird strangers she'd just met.

Grace collapsed onto her bed, dreading tomorrow and all it would bring.  
  
----------------------

By two o'clock the next day, both Grace and Sarah were waiting outside Mrs. Starling's office with the Dursley boys. Their parents were inside signing various papers and doing other "grown-up" stuff.

Grace examined the boys. One of them – Dudley – had blond hair, was very large, very ugly, and looked very stupid. The other – Harry – had dark hair, a strange scar on his forehead, looked much brighter than the other one, but he also looked very sad. Grace bounced Sarah on her knee and wondered what could have made him so upset.

"So ... how old are you?" she asked shyly.

"Sixteen," Dudley answered after a pause. She looked expectantly at Harry.

"Fifteen," he sighed.

"I'm ten," she said uncomfortably. "Almost eleven. And Sarah here is a year old."

"That's nice."

They continued in awkward silence like this for a while, with Grace asking an occasional question and the boys answering it hesitantly. Finally, the grown-ups emerged from the office and all four of them stood up. Grace clung to Sarah's hand.

Mrs. Starling bent awkwardly and gave both Grace and Sarah a stiff hug. She straightened up quickly. "Good-bye, girls, it's been wonderful getting to know you. Your things are in the front hall." She turned to Mr. and Mrs. Dursley. "I'll walk you to the door."  
  
-----------------------

They left quietly, without the big fanfare most of the kids usually got when they were taken away. Neither Grace nor Sarah had been very popular.

They had just reached the highway when Mrs. Dursley announced that she wanted to stop off at that "cute little shop we saw" and buy new outfits for the two of them. Embarrassed, Grace fingered her threadbare sweater and hand-me-down dress.

"That's okay," she tried to tell them. "We don't need-"

"Of course you do," said Mrs. Dursley. "It'll be fun getting new clothes, won't it? Turn right over here, Vernon."

Grumbling, Mr. Dursley turned right. Harry heaved a great sigh. Grace knew what he meant. Shopping for clothes was not her idea of fun.  
  
-------------------------

Three hours later, and with six new outfits between the two girls, Mrs. Dursley finally decided to leave the shop and go home. While they were driving, Grace fingered the new outfits gingerly. They were in bright, bold colors, and smelled like department stores.

Then she looked down at her sweater. Grammy had knit it for her.

Grace preferred it.  
  
-------------------------

Several hours later, the girls were lying in bed. They slept in what used to be the guest room.

Grace pictured their suburban neighborhood in her mind. Little Whinging was a quiet town, very peaceful, very boring. She didn't like the rest of the family either. Dudley was too mean, Harry was too quiet, Mr. Dursley was obnoxious, and Mrs. Dursley was too overbearing. She would rather have been back at 137 Derkhall Lane.

Grace pulled her sweater up from the floor and held it close. If she tried hard enough she could still smell Grammy's scent ...

--------------------------------------------

AN: That wasn't too bad, was it? In the next chapter, Grace discovers a familiar name while snooping. Please review! I'm new at this and really appreciate the feedback.  
  
Another AN: Just for your reference, I've been writing this story since fifth grade and am now in high school. I guess it's time to show it to someone, huh?  
  
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling except Grace, Sarah, Mrs. Starling, and 137 Derkhall Lane. They're mine!


	3. The Savior

The Savior

Grace woke early the next morning, not because she wanted to, but because the bed she slept on was lumpy. Rubbing her neck, she made her way down the hall to the bathroom.

She returned to her room, faced with the dilemma of what to wear, Grammy's sweater or the new clothes Mrs. Dursley had bought. In the end, she pulled Grammy's worn, pink sweater on over a crisp, white T-shirt and a new, faded, brown skirt.

She started to comb her hair, and then berated herself for trying to look nice for the Dursleys. It didn't matter what they thought. She didn't care about any of them.

Breakfast passed slowly, torturously. Grace thought she would never see the end of bacon, eggs, toast ... Harry didn't eat much. He passed most of his food down to her, and like an idiot she gobbled it. She supposed she looked almost as greedy as Dudley.  
  
----------------------------

It was late afternoon. Mr. Dursley was at work, Mrs. Dursley was outside, showing Sarah around to all the neighbors. It Grace and the boys at home.

Grace sat on the couch beside Dudley and some of his friends, watching TV. Vulgar, common folk, Grammy would have called them. Nasty, dirty, common boys. They were watching a show she was sure Dudley would never have even dared to mention had Mrs. Dursley been there.

"Hey, D," said one of them, scratching his large stomach. "Who's the kid? You take up babysittin'?"

"Naw," laughed another. "That's his daughter. Can't ya see the resemblance, M?" The boy gave one of her red tangles a pull. "Got his hair and ev'rythin'."

"Hey, kid," said another, leaning around his friend to look at her. "Who's your mum?"

"I bet it's Lanie Peter's kid."

"Naw, you dope. Lanie's got brown hair. Brunettes and blondes don't make red heads."

They continued on like this for a while. Dudley made no move to stop them, he even grinned and laughed along with them. Grace sat still as stone on the couch, trying not to let them know they were bothering her.

"Hey, what about that girl at school, D? What was her name?"

"Mary Leavenworth."

"Yeah, her. She's a red head."

"Hey, kid, how old are you?" Grace said nothing, but Dudley answered for her.

"Ten."

The other boys laughed at this. "So you must've been what, _six_, when she was born? Boy, you sure work fast, D!"

Grace had had enough. She tried to get up, but one of the boys pulled her back. "Where you goin', pretty girl? I like red heads."

The other boys laughed. He had latched onto her arm and wasn't letting go. Grace tugged hard, but he held her thin arm tight.

Almost frantic now, she pulled harder, but this only made him hold on tighter and the other boys laugh louder.

"_Leave her alone_."

All noise stopped. The whole group turned to look at the stairs. Harry was standing there, glaring at them all. The boy didn't let go.

"What, Potter?"

"You heard me. Leave her alone and get a life."

The boy stood up, dropping Grace's arm as if it was a slimy bug. "You don't have any right to tell me what to ... You wanna take this outside, Potter?"

"No," said Harry coolly. "And I don't think you want to either."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Your mother's out there. All your mums," Harry added. "But if you want to take it outside ..."

"Naw. Get out of here, girl."

Terrified, Grace darted out of the living room and up the stairs to where Harry was standing. He didn't seem to want to talk to her, though. He was heading back up the stairs ... yes, back into his room.

"Thank you," she whispered weakly as he closed the door behind him.

---------------------------------------

AN: This doesn't have anything to do with the plot ... I don't know why I felt the story needed it. Your opinions on this in your reviews, please!!! Next chapter will find Grace discovering a familiar name in the Dursley household.

Disclaimer: Everyone in this story belongs to JK Rowling except Grace, Sarah, Lanie Peters, and Mary Leavenworth. I was just having fun with her characters!


	4. An Outing

An Outing

Mrs. Dursley took the girls for haircuts in the middle of July.

"We won't take much off," she reassured Grace in the car. "It's too short for that. We'll just trim it a bit, the ends don't look very neat, and it keeps tangling …"

"The ends aren't neat because Mrs. Starling always cut our hair," Grace explained. "She's not exactly the best hair stylist in the world, you know?"

They pulled up in front of the salon. "What about styling, dear?" Mrs. Dursley asked her. "All the girls are getting their hair layered …"

"No," Grace said, lifting Sarah out of her carseat. "Plain and simple." Grammy had liked it that way. She hadn't liked all the new styles that came out. "Plain and simple works best for me," she had always said.

-----------------------

"Half an inch off the bottom," Mrs. Dursley instructed the stylist.

The woman worked quickly, her long nails occasionally scratching the back of Grace's neck. They could hear Sarah crying from the opposite side of the room.

"Your little sister isn't liking this much, is she?" asked the stylist in friendly tones.

"Guess not." Grace didn't bother to correct her.

"I never realized Mrs. Dursley had daughters," the woman said a few minutes later. "Four children … She sure keeps her figure well …"

"Hmmm …"

When the stylist finished cutting Grace's hair, she pulled out a hair dryer.

"I've never blow-dried my hair before," Grace said, eyeing the machine carefully.

"Really, love? How old are you?"

"Almost eleven."

The woman looked thoughtful. "All right, not that bad then. You'll be going to Stonewall in the fall?"

"Guess so."

"All the girls at Stonewall blow-dry their hair," the woman said. "It doesn't hurt at all. You'll want to talk to your mum about that, love."

"Okay," Grace said, but her reply was drowned out by the machine's drone.

--------------------

She looked like a new person.

Her red hair was no longer curled up into frizzy tangles, but was sleek and smooth and shiny.

Grace hated it.

-------------------

Mrs. Dursley couldn't stop staring. She kept sneaking glances at her in the rear view mirror all the way home.

It was the same, if not worse, and the dinner table that night. Neither Mr. Dursley or Harry could take their eyes off her. Grace ate in silence, trying to avoid their gazes.

But there was something else in Harry's eyes … something sad …

------------------------

AN: This is very fluffy (is that a word?) and not important to the story at all, just a little side trip. I PROMISE, next up is a chapter in which Grace discovers a familiar name.

Disclaimer: The only characters that belong to me are Grace, Sarah, and the hair stylist. All the others belong to JK Rowling.


	5. The Discovery

The Discovery

"The Road Not Taken"  
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,  
And sorry I could not travel both  
And be one traveler, long I stood  
And looked down one as far as I could  
To where it bent in the undergrowth;  
  
Then took the other, as just as fair,  
And having perhaps the better claim,  
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;  
Though as for that the passing there  
Had worn them really about the same,  
  
And both that morning equally lay  
In leaves no step had trodden black.  
Oh, I kept the first for another day!  
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,  
I doubted if I should ever come back.

Robert Frost

When she woke up the next morning in the guest room, Grace was surprised to see that her hair was still relatively nice looking. It hadn't tangled or frizzed or done any of the things her hair normally did. Maybe there was something to be said for blow-dryers after all …

_No_, Grace told herself sharply. Stop thinking like that. _Grammy didn't like them, that should be good enough for you_.

--------------------

After breakfast the family went their separate ways, Mr. Dursley to work, Mrs. Dursley out to her weekly bridge game, Dudley to meet with the rest of his friends, Sarah to her day camp, and Harry back up to his room.

Grace was left alone. She had nothing to do, nowhere to go …

So she sat in the living room, thinking. About the hard stuff. The stuff that makes your brain hurt.

About who she was.

She had always gotten into trouble at 137 Derkhall Lane. She was always rigging up devices that dumped water on the first person to open a door, always writing strange notes to people, always stuffing fake snakes and things into someone's trunk.

She hadn't done any of that here. At Derkhall Lane, she had been the troublemaker. Here she was … nothing to do, nowhere to go, no identity.

Grace sighed … this was going to be a long day.

----------------------

Grace made herself a sandwich for lunch and took it into the living room. She was feeling rebellious. As long as she didn't make crumbs, no one would ever know … right?

She sat on the couch, turned on the TV, and flipped through the channels … boring, boring, GROSS, boring … Her attention turned to a small, unused black cabinet in the corner of the room. No one seemed to pay any attention to what was in there …

She jumped off the couch, ignoring the voice inside her head that told her to _stay_. Grace tugged at the cabinet door, and it opened with a musty smell. It seemed she had been right. No one had bothered to look in there in years.

The cabinet was filled with old photos. Grace shifted through some of them, until she came to one and stopped, staring at it, hardly daring to believe her eyes.

Dudley. In a bathing suit. With … with a pig's tail drawn on …

She collapsed into giggles. Laughing hysterically, she flipped through the next few photographs. They were all pictures of a younger Dudley in a bathing suit, with pig accessories drawn on … she couldn't help laughing, he just looked so … so natural with them …

"What are you doing in there?"

Grace looked up, her eyes widening. She hadn't realized how much noise she'd been making. Harry was towering over her, glaring down harshly.

"Don't you touch those," he snarled, grabbing the pictures out of her hand.

Grace grinned up at him. "Oh come on, even _you_ thought it was funny."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." She grinned infuriatingly up at the older boy. Harry made an impatient noise.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you'd have been in if one of the Dursleys had seen you with these?"

"No. But they are funny, aren't they?"

Harry looked for a moment as if he was trying not to laugh. He tried to stop himself, but eventually a grin escaped, almost identical to the one on Grace's face.

"Oh, all right, so it is funny."

Grace grabbed the photos back. "How'd that stuff get on there?"

"I drew it."

She almost dropped the pictures. "You WHAT!"

"I drew the pig ears and tail and things. A couple weeks ago."

Grace looked up at him, impressed. "Wow. Why?"

"Felt like it."

The two of them put the photos back into the cabinet and then shut it tight. "And you can't tell anyone about this, understand?" Harry said sharply.

"Sure," Grace said.

Harry stood still for a moment, looking down at her, contemplating. Then he said, "I'm hungry. You want to get some lunch?"

"Yeah." Grace picked up her forgotten sandwich and followed Harry into the kitchen.

--------------------

Several minutes later, both of them were settled at the kitchen table with three peanut-butter sandwiches apiece. They didn't do much talking. Grace still thought Harry looked kind of … sad.

Finally, she voiced a question that had been bothering her for a while. "Your last name's Potter, right?"

Harry looked surprised. "Yeah, didn't you know?"

"I thought you guys were all one family … and then a few weeks ago one of Dudley's friends called you 'Potter …'"

"Harry Dursley? You actually thought my name was Harry Dursley?"

"Yeah, I thought it was kind of stupid, but you never know …"  
Harry threw back his head and laughed.

---------------------

That meeting had brought Grace so much closer to Harry. Until then he had seemed so cold, so distant, so removed from everything and everyone, as if he walked a different path from the rest of them. Grace was suddenly reminded of a poem her teacher had read once to the class last   
year, "The Road Not Taken." The poet had been an American, but still …

Harry had seemed, before today, to have chosen a different path to walk down. And there was still something sad and strange about him, but after that afternoon, Grace began to see him more as a person, more human. He laughed more, he talked more, he did all of the normal things, but there was still something stiff in his laugh, in his voice, that said "I don't belong here."

It was this difference she had sensed that led Grace into Harry's room early next morning while he was taking his shower. She wanted more than anything to discover his secret.

Grace quickly pulled her hair back and set to work; she knew   
she only had a few minutes before he got out of the bathroom. She pushed open the door and was shocked at the state of his room. The bed was unmade and there was a mess of books and papers on the floor. She hadn't thought Mrs. Dursley, a certified neat freak, would stand for anything like this in her perfectly cleaned house.

Trying to ignore the mess, Grace sifted through a huge stack of thick, yellow paper on his desk. She glanced quickly at each paper before carefully placing it aside. She had almost finished going through all the papers on the desk when something caught her eye.

It seemed to be a letter:

_"…Here's something to make you laugh. This morning I drew pig tails, ears, and noses on Dudley in some old photos I found. He actually looks quite handsome. I think you would have laughed if you had seen them._

_"A pig in a wig if there ever was one. Hah!_

_'Serves him right, he was picking on a bunch of little kids yesterday. Saw him out the window. Like Malfoy, only Malfoy's worse because he can use magic._"

"What do you think you're doing in here?"

Grace looked up, pure terror on her face. Harry was standing in the open doorway, seething with anger. His wet hair was slowly dripping water onto his t-shirt.

"Who's Malfoy?" she asked.

"What? Give that back!"

He lunged at her. Grace danced out of his way, then sprinted out of the room and downstairs. "Who's Malfoy?" she called over her shoulder.

Harry took the stairs three at a time, then catapulted over the banister. She shrieked and fled to the kitchen.

"GIVE THAT BACK!"

"Tell me who Malfoy is and I will!"

"What is going on down here?" A new voice had joined the argument – Mr. Dursley.

Grace jumped up onto one of the kitchen chairs and stuck her tongue out at Harry. He gave a cry and jumped towards her, nearly knocking her down. Grace shrieked as the chair fell over.

Grace looked around her, panting. She was under the table. She could hear Harry's footsteps dancing around on top of the table.

"Get out of here and give me back my letter."

"Not until you tell me how you know Malfoy."

"Get off that table right this instant!"

Harry paid no attention to his uncle. "COME ON!" he screamed down at her.

Grace waited another half a second, then darted out from under the table and made her way back into the living room, Harry hot on her trail. Mr. Dursley followed the two of them, bellowing loudly. She could hear Sarah crying upstairs.

"Come and get it, Potter!" she teased, sticking out her tongue from where she stood – on top of the coffee table. Harry leaped over the couch in one bound. Grace screamed again and took off.

She ran back through the kitchen and out the back door. She shivered. She was wearing just her pajamas and slippers, and it was cold outside. She saw Harry lurking in the kitchen, just in front of the open door.

"Come on, then, Potter. If you want your letter come and get it!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. She saw Mrs. Dursley's frightened face in an upstairs window, but she didn't care what the neighbors thought.

"Don't be an idiot," he snapped from the doorway. "Get back in the house."

"Tell me who Malfoy is."

Mr. Dursley appeared in the doorway as well. "Get back in the house _this instant_!" he hissed. "Before the neighbors see you."

"I don't _care_ what the neighbors think," Grace cried bravely. "I want to know who Malfoy is!"

"Will you come back inside if I promise to tell you?" This came from Harry, whose voice was muffled, since he was standing beside his uncle.

Grace considered a moment. A biting cold wind finally changed her mind. "All right," she said with as much grace and elegance as she could manage, and stalked serenely back into the house.

Mr. Dursley moved aside to let her in. Harry was standing behind him, he hand outstretched. With a smirk, Grace dropped the thick paper into his hand.

"Well?" she said expectantly.

-----------------------

AN: How was that? Next chapter will be (of course) Harry's explanation of Malfoy and an even bigger discovery will come the chapter after that.

Disclaimer: Nothing in this story belongs to me except Grace, Sarah, 137 Derkhall Lane, and Grace's story. I was just having fun with JK Rowling's creations! The poem is the very famous "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost.


	6. Answers Part 1

Answers Part 1

"Well?" she said expectantly.

Harry folded the paper up almost lovingly and was about to answer when Mr. Dursley slammed the back door shut with a bang so loud it startled both of them.

"You," he said, panting slightly. "Both of you, in the living room, now."

For the second time that morning, Grace's hazel eyes filled with fear.

-----------------------

"Would you care to tell me just what you meant by this ... by this display?"

"Nothing to tell," said Harry.

Their gazes turned to Grace. "I wanted to know who Malfoy was," she said defiantly. "And he wouldn't tell me."

"Why were you in my room in the first place?"

"An excellent question – I-"

"Shut it!" Harry said. "Why were you in my room?"

"I ..." She felt it would sound stupid to say she had sensed Harry was hiding something and had wanted to find out what it was. "I ... I don't know ..."

The three of them were in the living room, Grace and Harry on one sofa, Mr. Dursley on the other. Mrs. Dursley was in the kitchen with Sarah, starting breakfast. Dudley, Grace figured, was lurking somewhere just outside the door.

"You don't know why you did it, but you had to go snooping through my things?" Harry pressed. "My _private_ things?"

"I'll ask the questions here if you don't mind," said Mr. Dursley. He stuck his giant, red face very close to Grace's. "Why did you go snooping through his things?"

"I told you, I don't know."

He swore, and then leaned back, reclining on the sofa. "That's it, then," he said.

"What?"

"We'll have to take you back. Tomorrow, if possible."

"I – you can't!"

"Oh yes I can!" His face was growing redder now, he was getting angrier. "I never liked this idea from the start – not one bit! If you'd go through his things, you'd go through our belongings in the blink of an eye. Steal things."

"I'd never-"

"I'm not going to harbor such behavior ..." He continued on, but Grace took no notice. After all this, after she had found out that Harry knew a Malfoy, she was going back? Back to Derkhall Lane?

"... And if I were you I'd get upstairs _right now_, before one of us does something drastic," Mr. Dursley finished. Grace took one look at his face and fled.

------------------------

Grace lay in her bedroom hours later. She was hungry but didn't dare go down for something to eat. Mrs. Dursley was down there.

She couldn't believe how stupid she had been. To get in trouble like that, to embarrass Mr. Dursley in front of his neighbors? How could she have been so stupid as to think he wouldn't care, that he'd let her go with just a warning ...

Maybe if she was his own daughter, if he'd wanted her, things would have turned out differently.

Another one of Grammy's sayings ran through her mind. "_While this door is closing, another door is opening. It's our job to go find that door_." Something good would come out of this. It just had to.

Grace flipped onto her stomach and squeezed her pillow tightly, trying not to cry. They weren't going to make her cry, not those Dursleys!

Just when she thought she couldn't hold it in any longer there was a knock at the door.

She lifted her face, staring disbelievingly at the door. The knock came again.

"Gracie? Let me in, it's Harry." Grace stiffened at the nickname, but got out of bed and crossed the room.

"Why'd you call me that?" she said accusingly as the door swung open. "Only Grammy ever ..."

She shut the door behind him, turning away to hide the look that had come over her face, but he had seen it.

"I can't believe you did that."

"Did what?"

"Stood up to him like that, out in the yard," he said. "I'd always wanted to do something like that when I was your age, but I never worked up the nerve." He sat down on her bed and pulled an apple out of his pocket. "You want it?"

"Thanks," she said, grabbing it out of his hand and dropping down next to him. "I'm starving."

"It's all I could get." He watched her eating for a while, and then asked, "So, you wanted to hear about Malfoy?"

"Yes," she said eagerly.

"Would you mind telling me how you know him first?"

Grace complied. "There was a family that came over to our house for dinner once when I was eight or nine," she said slowly. She had never spoken about Grammy to anyone before. "Me and the boy had to go upstairs because the grown ups wanted to talk. He said his name was Draco Malfoy." She shuddered.

"What did he do?"

"Well, _he_ didn't do anything," she explained. "His parents did. They convinced Grammy to go on vacation ... and she was killed there ..."

"I'm sorry ..." Harry said softly.

"Never mind that, is it the same Malfoy?"

"Yep," he said. "Blond boy?"

Grace nodded. "His parents too."

"Definitely the same Malfoy," Harry said. "He's in my year at school."

"So you're friends?"

Harry forced his face into a look of exaggerated astonishment. "Now did I say that?" he said. "Malfoy and I are friends like ... like Dudley and I look alike."

"So you're friends, then?" she said with an impish grin.

"C'mon, cut it out," he said. "Malfoy's family's very ... very evil. I wouldn't put anything past them ..."

"Huh?"

"It's hard to explain," said Harry. "The whole family's bad, you know, murderers and stuff like that. They're like ... like a mafia. Sort of. The whole entire family's involved."

"Oh," Grace said, and returned to her apple.

"What was your grandmother's name, anyway?"

"Grammy wasn't my grandmother, I just called her that. Her name was Bertha," Grace said, wrinkling her nose in dislike.

Suddenly, there was a loud _crack_ and the figure of a woman appeared right before their eyes.

-------------------------

AN: How was that? Please review!

Disclaimer: Most of the characters belongs to JK Rowling. I only own Grace, Sarah, Derkhall Lane, and the plot. The quote "While this door is closing, another door is opening. It's our job to go find that door" was said by Matthew Perry in ... um, well, I got it from the August issue of Reader's Digest, actually.


	7. The Return

The Return

"Professor?" Harry whispered incredulously, leaping off the bed. He approached the woman. "Professor, what are you doing here?"

Grace thought she saw his eyes flicker to her for a second before they turned back to the woman.

"Harry?" she said uncertainly.

"There's no time to explain here," said the woman. She had black hair pulled tightly into a bun and a stern face. "We had to use an unregistered Portkey, Professor Dumbledore has just been looking through the name book …"

"The name …?"

"Potter, there's no _time_," the woman with black hair insisted. She picked up one of Sarah's baby books from the desk. "This will have to do," she muttered. She pulled out a funny looking stick and pointed it at the book, which flashed blue for a second, then returned to normal.

"Harry!"

Grace stood up, afraid of what was going to happen.

"Are we leaving now?" Harry asked.

"Yes, now, come on, quickly, we've got ten seconds. You too, girl, don't sit there staring!"

"But Professor, she's a-" Harry started to say as he grabbed hold of a corner of the book.

"I-"

"Just touch the book," the woman said. "Hurry," she added. "We've only got a few more seconds …"

Grace sat motionless on the bed, unable to move.

The woman sighed impatiently and grabbed her hand. Grace had a sudden unpleasant feeling of something jerking at her someplace in the region of her stomach, and then the room dissolved around her.

They were nowhere; the three of them were flying through a world of color …

And then they landed. Harry grabbed onto Grace's sweater to stop her from falling. She straightened up and stared around at their new surroundings.

It was a dirty, grungy neighborhood, one Grammy would never have approved of. Grace wondered for a moment how high the crime level was, but not for long.

The dark-haired woman gathered her and Harry closer to her own body. She kept the stick out and reached into her pocket. After a few moments she produced a piece of paper, which she thrust into Grace's chest.

"Read it and memorize quickly," she whispered.

Grace looked at the thick paper. In thin, spidery handwriting it read:

"The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmould Place, London."

"I-" she began, but the woman grabbed the paper back from her.

"Think over what you've just read," she whispered hurriedly.

Grace did so, bewildered. _The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmould_ …

She gave a quick gasp as a house materialized in front of them. If she squinted slightly, she could read the number on the door. 12.

"Professor, I didn't want –" Harry began, but the woman cut him off again.

"I know and I'm sorry, but there was no other place we could talk, in now, hurry!"

She pushed the children through the door, using her stick to lock it behind her.

Sticks … Grace stared at the woman's stick … she had seen something like it before, in Grammy's house … she could remember asking Grammy about it, but Grammy hadn't wanted to say …

Something clicked in her mind. Wands.

Wands were sticks, and only witches and wizards used wands.

Something must have dawned on her face, because the woman said, "Yes, that's right, child. Professor Dumbledore's waiting down in the kitchen, Harry, could you …?"

"Sure," he said. There was definitely something sad in his voice this time, but Grace barely registered it.

"Harry, she's a witch!"

"I know," he said. "That's one of my teachers."

"You – you're a witch too?"

Harry chuckled. "A wizard, Grace. I'm a wizard."

Grace stared blankly at the floor as they walked, barely aware of where Harry was taking her. It was obvious Harry had been here before. He led her down a stone flight of stairs that opened up into a large, underground kitchen.

The only person in the room was an old man with a long beard and sparkling blue eyes. He seemed to be waiting for them. Grace's hazel eyes and the man's blue ones connected, and she let out a small, frightened smile.

"Ah, so Professor McGonagall got you both here all right. Welcome to headquarters, Grace," the man said.

"How'd you …?"

"Don't worry about it," Harry said. "Professor Dumbledore knows _everything_ …" He wasn't smiling. And there it was again, that strange sadness and sarcasm underlying his words.

"Harry," said the man. Dumbledore. He walked the short distance that separated them and pulled Harry into a tight embrace. Harry stiffened and pulled away.

"Still human, then," Dumbledore said happily. Harry looked very much like he wanted to say something, but he looked down at Grace and closed his mouth.

Then he spoke again, but she was sure it wasn't what he had wanted to say. "Professor, what's _she_ doing here?"

"Have a seat, Harry," Dumbledore said. "You too, Grace. I have a lot to tell you both and not much time. You will have to be back at your aunt's house in a few hours."

"But sir, I thought that-" Harry began.

"No, Harry, it is not time for you to leave yet. A few more weeks and then we'll see.

"Now, this afternoon I decided to check the name book in my office. The name book," Dumbledore said, seeing the look on Harry's face, "records all the magical children born. Every summer, it lists those who will join Hogwarts that year, along with their addresses. I had intended to send out school letters to all the students with tomorrow's post.

"I was looking at this book when I saw a certain name, a name I had been watching carefully for, for many years now. What surprised me even more was the current address listed for this child."

Dumbledore looked directly into Grace's eyes.

"Grace Potter."

------------------

AN: Now, honestly, how many of you guessed that was coming? _I_ thought it was pretty obvious, but hey, I'm the author! Let me know what you thought when you REVIEW!!!! Thank you. I really do appreciate it. This is me when I get a review yay! I got one, now I have ... FIVE whole reviews! Yippee! Did you like Dumbledore's font?

Disclaimer: Nothing in this story belongs to me, except Grace and her story. The rest belongs to wonderful and amazingly talented JK Rowling.


	8. Answers Part 2

Answers Part 2

There was silence following Dumbledore's words. Grace looked from the old man, to Harry, and back again. Harry looked as astounded as she was.

"Sir?" Harry said quietly, looking up into the old man's eyes. "I don't understand."

Grace is your sister, Harry."

"But … but," Harry struggled. "But my mum and dad …"

Dumbledore smiled at the two of them. "I know this will sound amazing to the both of you, so I might as well start from the beginning. Grace, this must seem most confusing for you and I'm sorry I don't have time to explain things properly, but we need to get you back to your aunt's house as soon as possible."

Grace stared down at her lap. Whose aunt did he mean? Mrs. Dursley, her aunt?

"Nearly sixteen years ago to the day, your father summoned me to Godric's Hollow. Something was going wrong, he said. He had detected another heartbeat during your delivery." Grace wasn't certain of which one of them he was speaking to, his eyes kept flickering back and forth.

"That night, July 31, we delivered not one, but two babies, a boy and a girl. Twins."

Harry was looking at Dumbledore as if he was mental. "Sir, Grace is, um, five years younger than me."

"Listen to him," Grace said suddenly. She didn't know why she trusted this man, but she did. Maybe it was something about his eyes … He had never met her before, but he had guessed her birthday correctly.

"Thank you, Grace. All in good time, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Lily, James, and I had a quick talk that night before the relatives came in. I had told them about – about the prophecy, and they were most anxious to determine how the unexpected turn of events would affect the meaning of Sybil's words …"

----------------------

"I don't think Baby Girl Potter here will change anything," a man who looked extraordinarily like Harry was saying.

"I agree," said Dumbledore. "The prophecy clearly called for a boy. The Longbottoms' son was born the other day, though, he could also be the child mentioned. We won't know for sure until one of them is marked …"

"Marked for destiny …" murmured a woman who looked very much like Grace. She was sitting up in bed, cradling a baby close to her body; her husband was standing beside her with the second one in his strong arms.

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "I'm sorry this is the way it has to be. In any rate, you'll have to go into hiding immediately, for the babies' sakes. We'll Unplot your house, find you a Secret Keeper …"

"No," the woman whispered. "What kind of life is that for them, to live in fear, to always stay in the house and never see daylight?"

"We'll have _windows_, Lily."

"Shut up, James! Can't you ever be serious for once?"

The man who must be James opened his mouth again, but Lily interrupted. "And you better not be about to make some wisecrack about your friend's name." James closed his mouth.

"Lily," Dumbledore said, breaking up their argument, "I know how you feel about this. But would you sacrifice your freedom for a few months or a year, in order to build a better world?"

"I don't know …"

"C'mon, Lil," said James. "What's there to think about?"

"What if it's not _our_ son that the prophecy mentioned?"

"I've already begun arrangements to put the Longbottoms into hiding as well."

"See, Lil. Nothing more to argue, is there?"

Lily looked down at the baby in her arms, apparently thinking hard. In a sudden movement, she handed the baby to Dumbledore.

"Take her away," she said.

"What?"

"You heard. She doesn't have to put up with this. She shouldn't. No one will ever know about this, no one. If Voldemort is going to come after us, at least let her be safe."

"Lily, are you out of your mind? We are not going to give our baby up just because of some –"

"Some _death threat_? When are you going to grow up, James Potter? This is real life, here! A death threat on his life," she said, gesturing to the baby in James's arms.

"Where will she be safe, Lil? Just tell me that. Where will she be safe?"

"He has a point, Lily," interrupted Dumbledore. "Voldemort is taking over everywhere. We will soon run out of safe places …"

"Hogwarts …"

"Are you crazy?" James hissed. "You cannot keep a _baby_ at Hogwarts."

"In the future," said Dumbledore. "She'd be safe in the future. Voldemort's weakening. He's letting his guard down. In a year or two he'll be vanquished. We can send her a few years into the future-"

"On her own?"

Dumbledore thought a moment. "I know a woman, a Ministry witch who would be able to take care of her and help her find you. She's quite capable of handling a child and I'm sure she would be willing –"

"Albus, we haven't talked it over and nothing is happening until we do!"

"There's no time to talk it over, James. What are we supposed to do once people see her? They'll want to know where she's gone. Albus, my daughter won't be hidden away if she doesn't have to be." Lily's eyes were shining with tears. "We'll have to do it now."

James took one look at his wife, closed his eyes, and nodded.

"Right," said Dumbledore, taking charge. "I'll contact the witch as soon as I can. We won't tell her anything about the girl at all, just that she needs to meet her parents in the future. It is now July 31, 1980. I'll have her bring the baby to … the Ministry at 12 o'clock on August 5, 1985."

"Won't she still be a baby when Harry is five years old?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore, nodding his head. "But that's a sacrifice the four of you will have to make."

Lily's shoulders shook with sobs. "My baby," she whispered softly, taking the small bundle back from Dumbledore.

"We don't have to go through with this. We don't have to be separated," James said.

"Yes we do," Lily answered with an air of one resigned to the worst. "You'd better take her now …before Sirius and Remus and everyone come in."

"I'll let you say good-bye."

Dumbledore turned his back on the family. He heard small, soft noises behind him, and then James's voice saying firmly, "We're ready, Albus."

Lily gave the baby girl one last kiss before placing her gently in Dumbledore's arms. "I'm sorry we don't have anything to give you … all the clothing we bought is boy clothing …"

The baby reached up and hit Lily's nose with her tiny fist. The little group laughed.

"_That_ was graceful," James said sarcastically.

Lily smiled. "Good-bye ... Grace …"

--------------------

"I took you to the Ministry witch, Bertha Jorkins," Dumbledore was saying.

_Grammy_, Grace thought. Harry gasped.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, you guessed correctly, Harry, but you must fill each other in later, you have to leave in another few minutes. "Bertha was happy to take care of you. I told her simply when and where your parents would meet you and that it was imperative that she be there _on time_. The two of you went forward in time, using a device very similar to a Time-Turner. Have Harry fill you in on that later.

"And so the two of you came out almost four years after Voldemort's downfall. Bertha took you to the Ministry as promised. I was there. I had to meet her … had to explain that your parents had died.

"I didn't think it wise to take you to your aunt's house, and Bertha offered to take you home. I checked up on you every so often, waiting until you were old enough to explain things to you … Bertha never knew who you were.

"And then two years ago," he said, "Bertha Jorkins disappeared on her vacation in Albania. I searched the house, but could find no sign of you. I tried to convince the ministry to look for her, but they didn't seem to think her disappearance was of any importance." Harry snorted. "By the time they finally decided to look for her, you were gone without a trace.

"I tried to find you, but it was as if you'd disappeared too. You were nowhere to be found. Until I checked the name book today and saw your address. 4 Privet Drive.

"That is what happened," Dumbledore concluded. "I swear to you it's all true."

Grace sat stunned in her seat, trying to think which of her million questions to ask first, like who Voldemort was. Harry beat her to it.

"How could you _do_ that?" he said angrily. "How could you … split us up … and not even tell me I had a sister …"

What looked like a more important thought popped into his mind. "Professor, the … the blood charm you told me about last June … would it work with Grace too?"

"I do not know," Dumbledore sighed. "Your aunt has already sealed the charm, by taking you in fifteen years ago. I don't know if it would work again, and I would really rather not test it."

There was a knock at the door.

"Albus?" came a woman's voice. "Minerva wants to know if you're finished, they should be getting back now."

"Of course," he said, and stood up. Grace stood up too, dazed.

"I am so sorry we had to meet like this," Dumbledore said. "I know you must have so many questions about this … about all of this … you have been kept away from it for so long …

"Tell Minerva she can come in, Emmeline," he called through the door. It burst open a second later and the woman that must be Minerva stepped through, carrying Sarah's baby book and her wand.

"See you soon, Potter," she said as she waved her wand again and the book turned blue and then slowly returned to normal. Grace wasn't sure which one of them she was talking to. She grabbed hold of a corner of the book; the sooner she got out of here and got back to the Dursleys the better.

Grace felt that unpleasant feeling of something jerking at her someplace in the region of her stomach again, and then the room dissolved around her.

---------------------

AN: That was boring, wasn't it? I hate explanation chapters, unless they're written well, like JK's. But mine isn't. Now that we've got all the explanation out of the way ... on with the story!!! Thanks to everyone who reviewed so far, it really really means a lot to me.

Should I write personal responses? Here goes:

**JCsDancerGurl**: This is Harry Potter. Nothing is impossible.

**droplets of hope**: I knew someone would get it.

**Miss Lady Padfoot**: Same as above, and thanks for your interest.  
  
Disclaimer: I own the very outlandish plot. All the charcters all JK Rowling's except Grace and the teeny tiny mention of Sarah.


	9. Bonding

Bonding

They reappeared in the bedroom. This time, Harry fell to the ground with a thud as well as Grace.

Neither of them bothered to get up. They lay on the rug in complete silence for what felt like hours, each thinking their own thoughts.

----------------

It was almost dark outside before they spoke again. "You all right?" Harry asked, scooting over to where Grace lay on the rug.

"I don't know," she whispered, sitting up. "I – Feels like a dream. Everything was happening so fast."

"Tell me about it," he said. "But it must have been tons worse for you … you don't know anything about any of it yet."

"About what? The magic?"

And then all of a sudden the questions burst from her as if a dam had broken loose in the back of her throat.

"Can you really send people forward in time? Who's Voldemort? Why were those people going into hiding? How did we get there? Who's Minerva and Emmeline? How did we get there so fast? What's the Order of the Phoenix? Why-"

"Stop!" gasped Harry. "I'll … try to explain everything … but you've got to tell me some stuff too …"

----------------------

They talked for hours and hours, trying to sort the whole mess out. Harry told Grace about being a witch and Hogwarts and his – their parents and Voldemort and the Death Eaters and the Order and the Portkey and the Time Turner and so many other things that it made Grace's head spin.

In return, she told him about Grammy and what had happened in the Albanian forest. And then Harry told her what had happened the night Voldemort had returned.

"But I still don't understand why they thought you were in danger …"

Harry sighed and told her about the prophecy.

------------------------

It was nearly five in the morning when they finally began to run out of things to talk about. There was just one more topic left to be breached.

"Umm … Grace? Since you'll be going to Hogwarts next year, would you mind, uhhh, not telling anyone you're my … my twin?"

Grace looked up at Harry, who was about a foot and a half taller than her. "No problems there," she grinned. "What should I say instead?"

"We're … I dunno, cousins or something … that might work …"

Harry was sitting cross-legged on the floor; Grace was curled up on his lap, leaning against his chest. The dark sky outside had a streak of blue in it now; it was almost morning.

"You know what?" Harry said. "You look like … Mum," it sounded so strange, "a bit. I've seen both of them before, in a thing called a Pensieve, I'll explain in a few seconds. You've got dad's eyes though. I've got her eyes."

The two siblings lapsed into silence again, thinking their own private thoughts, of the separate lives they had led. Neither of them were tired, or even thought of going to bed.

An hour later, Grace could hear the sound of Mr. Dursley waking up in the next room. Uncle Vernon, she corrected herself. Another thought suddenly flashed across her mind.

"Harry, Uncle Vernon said he was taking me back to the orphanage today!"

She could feel Harry's body tensing up underneath her. "Oh, no he isn't! He can't, not now."

"But he will … you think it would help if I told him I'm a witch?"

"No, are you crazy?" Harry pulled his arms around her. "Don't worry, he's not going to take you away."

The Potter twins relaxed and melted into each other; two became as one for a moment, as they were both brought back to the present at the thought of the current task at hand.

-------------------

Harry convinced Grace to come out of the bedroom for breakfast. Only as she sat down at the table did she realize how hungry she was; she hadn't had anything to eat since the apple yesterday at lunchtime.

The entire family ate in silence. Grace tried to work up the courage to ask Uncle Vernon what he was going to do, but somehow … she just couldn't. She didn't want to know. She wanted to go back upstairs and be with her brother, for as much time as they had together.

Uncle Vernon finally pushed his chair back from the table. Grace jerked her head up quickly and looked at him expectantly; out of the corner of her eye she saw Harry was doing the same.

Their uncle looked down at her and said, "Well, I haven't got all day. Hurry up and get your things, I'll meet you at the car in fifteen minutes."

---------------------

A/N So how was that chapter? I love Harry's big brother role, he's so ... loving. The first thing he asked Grace was about _her_, not _himself_. Not selfish like in OotP. But that selfishness made his character so believable. I don't know if he comes out on the computer the way he does in my mind. I hope he does. Thanks to everyone who reviewed so far!!!!! I really really thank you all deeply from the bottom of my heart.

Disclaimer: A lot of this story belongs to JK Rowling. Most of it. But Grace and the plot belong to me.


	10. The Rescue

The Rescue

Grace just sat and stared at him. "Mr. Dursley, please, don't-"

"You heard me," he said. "Fifteen minutes."

Grace bit her bottom lip hard and stood up slowly. She walked through the living room and up the stairs with carefully measured steps. Very even, very calm, very steady.

Her calm demeanor vanished once she reached the privacy of the stairs. Grace raced up the steps and flung herself into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

She stood there, breathing heavily. No, no, no, no, no, they _weren't_ going to take her away. They just couldn't!

Grace could feel the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes and instead of shedding them, she began laughing madly, great, huge, shaky shouts of laughter.

The odd laughter eventually died down and Grace felt her mind working overtime. Well, she wasn't going to be hauled around as if she was a doll! _I think she'd look well here_ … _no_, _I don't like the way this light shines on her face_, _move her over into the shadows_ … _no_, _bring her back into the light_ …

Grace bit her lip, strengthening her resolve. She wouldn't let them take her away from her brother, not when she'd finally found someone who cared about her …

_That's not true and you know it_, she shouted at herself. _Grammy cared about you_.

_If she had cared – had truly cared at all – she wouldn't have taken you into the forest with her that night_, Grace told herself. The minute she thought that she knew it was the truth, as much as it hurt her to think so.

She sank down onto the floor, her head buried in her hands, trying not to think of where she'd be this time tomorrow.

Suddenly from downstairs came several loud, popping sounds, like gunshots. Grace lifted her head curiously, opened her door, and walked slowly down the stairs.

She reached the bottom just as Harry came running up to her.

"See? What'd I tell you? Dumbledore's got it all figured out already," he said, smiling brightly at her. She noticed the sadness had come back into his eyes. So the secret he had been hiding wasn't anything about being a wizard at all, it was about Sirius's death and the prophecy that had been made about him.

Grace put her brother's troubles out of her mind for now and continued down the last few steps, looking shyly out at everyone in the Dursleys' living room. There seemed to be about ten people she had never met before, all standing uncomfortably, staring at her. Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, Dudley, and Sarah were all standing on the opposite side of the room.

"Hi," Grace said nervously. A young woman with bright green hair smiled a bit.

"It's all right, girl, Dumbledore told us everything this morning," said an old man. One of his eyes was small and dark, the other was wide and a vivid blue.

"Why don't you two get your things packed up now?" said another man. He had blonde, slightly graying hair and kind, smiling eyes. "We'll be leaving in-"

"And just where do you think you are taking her?" asked Uncle Vernon in a loud voice. "She doesn't have anything to do with _your_ type!"

"Aaah, I'm afraid you're wrong there, Dursley," said the man with two different eyes. "Grace is very much one of our type. But we wouldn't expect _you_ to understand that."

"She – what? I – you must be mistaken, sir!"

"Potter, I thought I told you to pack up," said the man again. Both Harry and Grace were still standing at the foot of the stairs, watching the argument that was sure to take place. "Now, Dursley …"

Harry pulled her back up the stairs. "Come on," he said. "We're leaving."

"Where are we going?"

"Who cares?" he muttered. "Just as long as it's away from here …"

"Who were all those people down there?"

"Members of the Order," he explained. "The group that's fighting back against Voldemort."

"I remember."

"I think I saw Tonks, Moody, Lupin, Kingsley, Podmore …" Harry rattled off a bunch of names that meant absolutely nothing to Grace. "Don't worry about it," Harry said when he saw the look on her face. "You'll get to know them all."

---------------------

Ten minutes later, the twins were standing in the living room once again. The Dursleys had vanished, most likely into the kitchen.

"We're going to the Burrow," said the man with graying hair that Grace gathered was Remus … Remus Lupin.

Harry smiled grimly at this news, and Grace, looking at her brother's reaction, asked, "What's the Burrow?"

"You'll find out soon enough. We've got two Portkeys, since we're such a large group." The Order members separated themselves so that five of them were surrounding Harry and five were surrounding Grace.

"Ready, everyone?" asked the man with two different eyes. "We have sixty seconds …"

A thought suddenly occurred to Grace. She turned to the woman standing next to her, the one with the green hair. "Shouldn't I say good-bye to Sarah?" she asked softly.

"Who's Sarah?"

"The baby ... I've known her a while …"

"No, I don't think she'll mind if you don't say good-bye to her."

"Shut up you two! Thirty seconds left, everyone get ahold of your Portkeys now."

Grace grabbed a corner of the magazine they were using as a Portkey. The five Order members crowded in as well.

The man with two different eyes counted the last ten seconds off. "Ten … nine … eight …"

_This is my last chance to turn back_, Grace thought. _I don't have to go through with this_ …

But the thought of returning to Derkhall Lane stiffened her resolve and she gripped her corner of the magazine tightly.

" … four … three … two … one …"

She once again felt that jerk somewhere in the region of her stomach and the Dursleys' living room dissolved …

---------------------

They rematerialized in a cluttered, messy kitchen. Harry's group arrived a second later. The only other person in the kitchen was an older woman with red hair, very motherly like. The woman pushed her way throught the crowd surrounding Harry and gave him a huge hug.

"Oh, Harry, dear, how lovely to see you again, so happy you all got here safely …"

"Not a bit of trouble, Molly," said Remus.

"Oh good," she said happily. "Everyone's upstairs, dear, if you want to go see them."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry. He moved towards a doorway, through which Grace could see a rickety flight of stairs, but he didn't leave the room.

"And where's …"

But the woman – Mrs .Weasley? – had spotted Grace. She walked slowly towards her.

"So you must be Grace?" she said.

"Yep, Molly, that's her," said the woman with green hair.

Mrs. Weasley pulled Grace into a tight embrace, as if they had known each other for years and years. Grace breathed in the flowery scent of her perfume, felt the rough fabric of her sweater brushing against her cheek. It almost drowned out the feel and smell of Grammy's sweater. Grace pulled away, but the flowery scent now followed her as well.

"It's … very nice to meet you," she said softly, shyly.

Mrs. Weasley was looking down at her kindly. "You can follow Harry upstairs if you want. We'll bring your things up later."

"Thank you very much, Mrs. Weasley."

Grace made her way through the kitchen to the doorway where Harry was waiting for her.

"Who was that?" she asked as they started up the long flight of stairs.

"Mrs. Weasley. My friend Ron's mum. This is their house."

"And who are we going to see?"

"My other friends," said Harry as they climbed.

They climbed the rest of the stairs in silence. Grace noticed that the farther up they went, the louder certain noises from the attic became.

They finally reached the top, and Harry knocked three times on a door marked "Ronald Weasley."

The door opened almost immediately and the twins walked in.

The room was decorated with orange posters glaring at them from every wall, as if the room itself was on fire. The girl who had opened the door also had bright red hair. Seated in various positions around the room were three boys who also had red hair and a girl with bushy brown hair. All of the occupents stared open mouthed at the two of them, as if they were unsure of what to say.

The girl with red hair was the first to speak. "Harry? We missed you so much."

He paid no attention to her. "Did you get my letter?" he asked the girl with brown hair.

"Yes, a few days ago, but I didn't have time to answer it because that's about when I moved in here …"

Harry suddenly noticed Grace was staring wide-eyed at all of them and they were all staring at her. "Oh, right," he said. "Grace, these are my friends Ginny, Ron, Fred, George Weasley, and Hermione Granger."

"Hi," she said. "I'm Harry's …" Her eyes flickered to him for half a second.

"My sister," he interrupted. "She's my twin sister."

Everyone in the room looked at him as if he was mad.

"Harry …" Hermione said gently.

"Oh, no one's told you? It's a long story, but tell me what's happening here first."

"There's not much to tell, is there?" Ron said carefully with a glance in Grace's direction.

"It's okay, she knews everything …"

"There still isn't much to tell," said Ginny. "Mum and Dad don't tell us anything, and it's hard to find things out when we're not staying …"

"… at headquarters," finished Hermione sharply. "When we're not staying at headquarters, Ginny, you can say it."

"If there was something important they'd tell us about it," said Ron.

"In theory," added one of the twins.

"George," the other twin said suddenly, "Grace here looks a little out of it. You got a candy or something to give her?"

"Sure do."

George took a brightly wrapped candy out of his pocket and passed it over to her. Harry grabbed it out of her hands.

"All right, what have you done to it?"

"Aw, Harry, what a spoilsport!"

"They're Electos," said Ginny, taking the candy from Harry. "Give you an electric shock when you suck them."

"So go on, Harry," Ron said impatiently. "How in the world is she supposed to be your twin?"

Harry sat down on one of the beds and told everyone the story Dumbledore had told them yesterday. Grace hardly spoke at all. Everyone was so much older than she was, they all looked about fifteen or sixteen, and the Weasley twins much older than that, and she was afraid of making a fool out of herself in front of them.

When Harry finished his story, they all talked about various other things.

"The shop's going great, we've got all sorts of people in there, grown-ups too. They seem to think our products are funny …"

"Yeah, until we sell things to their kids and they let off fireworks in the house!"

"Harry, did you hear Cho Chang is rumored to be Head Girl next year?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, her and Adrian Pucey, that Slytherin on the House team?"

"Who's making prefect this year, Ginny?"

"Colin Creevey, the creep, and Eloise What's-her-name, the girl who tried to curse off her pimples."

Grace couldn't understand a word of this.

After what seemed like hours there was a knock at the door. Ginny hurried to open it.

The woman with green hair was standing outside the door next to Harry's trunk and Grace's battered suitcase.

"Just brought your things up. I'm leaving now, I'm supposed to be on duty, but I think I'll be able to come 'round for dinner …"

"Thanks, Tonks," said Harry, and he and one of the twins went to bring in the trunk.

"You'll be staying in Ginny's room, Grace, why don't you three bring the suitcase down now?"

Grace nodded and picked up her suitcase, and Ginny and Hermione led her down a flight of stairs. Ginny pushed the door open.

It was a large room, painted in soothing green and blue tones. The windows were open and the long, gauzy curtains were waving slightly in the breeze. On one side of the room was a cast-iron four-poster bed, with white sheets and covers and hangings of the same gauzy material as the curtains.

"There are some perks to being the only girl out of seven kids," Ginny said.

Grace looked around. "I like it," she said.

"It's not really my style."

Grace felt her cheeks go red. _I like it_, _what a stupid thing to say_. She twirled a red tangle nervously.

"I'm more a power girl, if you get what I mean. Let me take this," Ginny said, taking the suitcase out of her grasp and putting it down on one of two folding cots that were set up on the other side of the room.

"You're really quiet," Hermione remarked as she sat down on a white on the floor. Ginny and Grace did the same.

"I'm shy, I guess," she said.

"Harry was the same way," Hermione said. "It was like torture getting him to talk at first. And now he's fine. You'll get used to everything, don't worry. I'm Muggleborn … trust me, nothing's as confusing as it sounds …"

_That's what you think_, Grace added in her mind.

---------------------

A/N: I thought it got a little dull at the end, what about you? The next chapter will be various other boring but important things, and then the chapter after that will possibly be Hogwarts. Did you like Ginny's room? Tell me when you review, please review! Thanks a lot!

Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me except Grace and Sarah. And Derkhall Lane, I think I mentioned that once. Everything else belongs to JK Rowling.


	11. Another Outing

Another Outing

But Hermione had turned out to be right. During the next three weeks, Grace learned so much about the wizarding world from Harry and Hermione and the Weasleys that she felt as if it were becoming her world as well as theirs. She also got to know Hermione, all the Weasleys, and some of the Order members better, and found that Harry was right; even Mad-Eye Moody no longer seemed as scary as he had been the first time she'd seen him.

One morning, Grace and Hermione were sitting at the kitchen table waiting for their breakfast when a large barn owl swooped in through the open window and dropped a bundle of letters on the counter.

"Oh, get that for me, will you, Hermione, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked from the stove, where she was frying eggs. The owl took off again. "That'll be your school letters."

Hermione obliged. "Yes, they are. Here's mine, Harry's, Ron's, Ginny's, oh – Grace, there's one for you too."

Grace looked up from her empty plate just as Harry, Ron, and Ginny wandered in.

"What's that?" Ron asked – pointing to the letters in Hermione's hand.

"Letters from school."

"Oh."

"Don't you realize," Hermione said impatiently, "these'll have our O.W.L. scores in them!"

"Weren't we supposed to get those last month?" said Harry.

"I don't know, perhaps Professor McGonagall made a mistake …"

"A _teacher_?" said Ron in a highly sarcastic voice. "A teacher, make a mistake? _Never_ …"

The other three laughed. But Hermione simply handed the letters out to everyone. Grace stared at hers. It was written in the same thick, yellow paper Harry's letter had been written on; she now knew this was parchment. She'd never seen it before. On the front was written _Miss G. Potter, the kitchen, The Burrow_ in emerald ink. On the back was a wax seal, with the Hogwarts coat of arms impressed upon it.

Ginny had already torn her letter open, had glanced it over, and then tossed it aside. Grace and the other three held back.

"I can't look," Hermione said. She handed her letter over to Ron. "You open it for me."

"Then Harry has to open mine," said Ron, lowering his voice, "and he can tell Mum if it's bad news."

"Oh, come on, Ron," scoffed Ginny. "You can't have done worse than Fred and George, and she forgave _them_ …"

"After two years of them suffering!"

"I'll open Ron's," Harry interrupted, "and Hermione can open mine. There … are we ready now?"

Hermione nodded breathlessly. The three of them each tore open the others' letter at the same time.

"How'd I do?" Hermione asked Ron.

"You got all O's in everything – even Astronomy!"

Hermione sighed with relief and took her letter back.

"You didn't do too bad, Ron," Harry said. "You got an O in Defense and Charms, an E in Care of Magical Creatures and Transfiguration, an A in Herbology, and Potions, and … a P in Divination, Astronomy, and History of Magic."

Ron laughed with relief. "Couldn't say I expected any better than that," he said. "I was surprised they didn't just expel me right after _that_ disaster."

"What about mine?" Harry asked Hermione.

"What?" said Hermione. She was holding her results to her chest as if she was afraid they would turn out to be a dream. "Oh – right. Not bad at all. You got an O in Defense-"

"No surprises there."

"Shut up and let her finish."

"As I was _saying_ … an O in Defense, Charms, and Care of Magical Creatures, an E in Transfiguration, Potions-"

"_Potions_?"

Hermione ignored Ron's interruption. "- an E in Transfiguration and Potions, an A in Herbology and Divination, and P's in Astronomy and History of Magic."

Harry let out his breath. "Not too bad, then. I could take Snape's N.E.W.T. class."

"And why would you want to do that?"

"I'm just amazed I passed, that's all."

"So am I," said Ron. "I thought I'd flunk that for sure."

"Six O.W.L.s, Ronnie?" said Mrs. Weasley, coming over to join their group. "Well that's not too bad, then. You did better than the twins did at any rate."

"Why haven't you opened your letter?" Ginny asked Grace suddenly. Grace jumped and reddened slightly as five faces turned to look at her.

"I don't know," she said, looking around at all of them. "What if I'm not accepted there? I mean, it's not too late to change their minds or anything, is it? What if this is all a terrible mistake?"

"Look at how thick it is," said Harry. "That means they've put in you supply list as well. There's no way they'd do that if you weren't accepted."

"That's true …" she said. Then, holding her breath, she ripped open the envelope and began to read the first line of her letter.

_Dear Miss Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of_-

Grace let out a shriek. "I'm in!" she cried. She didn't know why it came as such a shock, but it felt so good to say it out loud. "I got in!" she screamed again, dancing up and down in her seat, her fingers and knees trembling.

Harry bent over and hugged her tight and she grinned into his arms. She'd be going to school with her brother and his friends … she'd really be going to Hogwarts …

When she had calmed down a little, Mrs. Weasley took the parchment out of her hands.

"I suppose I'll have to make another trip down to Diagon Alley to get all this … anyone else want to come?"

Unsurprisingly, no one did.

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "All right then, you lot stay here … Grace, dear, wouldn't you like to come with me? There's so much we'll need to buy you …"

"All right …"

-----------------------

Twenty minutes later, Grace and Mrs. Weasley walked through the hidden entrance in the back of the Leaky Cauldron and were standing at the start of Diagon Alley.

Grace didn't know where to look first. The tiny shops that lined the crooked, cobble-stoned street were filled with all sorts of things no one had ever told her about. Through the shop windows she could huge, golden cauldrons, owls and other pets of all different sizes, stacks of books, mannequins that could really move that were modeling what she could only suppose were the latest fashions, broomsticks on display, different wizarding games and toys …

"We'll have to go and get your money out of the bank first," said Mrs. Weasley, checking the five supply lists she was carrying inside her roomy purse. "Then we'll go to Flourish and Blotts and get everyone their books and Ginny says she'll need a new broom … I do wish they'd sent these out a bit earlier …"

Grace let Mrs. Weasley ramble on and began to watch the people instead. There were not so many witches and wizards shopping as Harry had said there would be. Every face seemed full of terror and fear; they spent no time dawdling, but hurried from shop to shop. Grace knew this had everything to do with Voldemort. From what Harry had said, everyone in the wizarding world had been terrified for fifteen years at the thought of him returning to power, and now their worst fears had been recognized. She could see several others her age, being dragged from store to store by their parents and could hear snippets of their conversations.

"Come on, Euan, we haven't got all day."

"It's not polite to stare."

"Mum! Anna's touching me!"

"I've had just about enough. You three wait till your father hears about this."

"When are we going to buy my wand?"

"Mum, can we go to Weasleys' when we're done?"

Yes, Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, Fred and George's shop seemed to come up quite a lot in conversation. It seemed most everyone her age was eager to go there. Grace was happy for the twins; it looked like business must be good.

"Here we are, Gringotts."

Grace stretched her neck trying to see the top of the building. Gringotts was a three-story building, made entirely of white marble. She and Mrs. Weasley made their way through a pair of bronze doors with an inscription engraved on it:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed,_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take and do not earn,_

_Must pay dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors,_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

Grace shivered a little. Mrs. Weasley seemed unfazed by this message; she pushed the doors open. Behind the bronze doors was a long, low, marble hallway, at the end of which were two silver doors. Mrs. Weasley pushed those open as well, and they found themselves in a large room with high ceilings and marble floors. Behind desks set along one side of the room were …

Grace sucked in her breath. _Goblins_!

"It's all right, dear, don't be frightened. They're not going to hurt you. Let's take this one all the way down at the end – he looks free."

They made their way across the giant room, their shoes clacking on the floor.

"We'd like to visit the Weasley, Potter, Granger, and Jorkins vaults, please," Mrs. Weasley said to the goblin. Grace looked up at her in surprise but said nothing. Grammy's vault …

"You got the keys for all those?"

Mrs. Weasley produced four tiny keys. Three of them were gold and the fourth looked black.

"That's in order," the goblin said. "Griphook will take you down."

--------------------------

"Down" meant hurtling down a cold, dank, stone passageway in a cart, just like in a mine or some bizarre roller coaster. They finally slowed to a stop.

The three of them, Mrs. Weasley, Grace, and the goblin named Griphook, climbed out of the cart. There was a door in front of them, with the number 687 clearly marked on it. Mrs. Weasley handed the key to Griphook and he inserted it into a keyhole and the door slowly swung open.

Inside were mounds and mounds of gold, silver, and bronze coins, all glinting slightly in the lamplight coming from the lantern the goblin held. Mrs. Weasley quickly reached into the vault and scooped up a large pile of these coins.

"This was your parents' vault, dear," she said as they climbed back into the cart. "Harry's been using it for years, and I guess it's yours now also, but your – Ms. Jorkins had her own vault and I think Dumbledore said you should use that up first …"

Grace nodded. She was too sick from the cart ride to open her mouth.

Next they went to the Weasley vault, number 579. There wasn't much inside, compared to Harry's fortune. And her fortune, Grace reminded herself. It was her fortune as well.

The third vault they went to was Hermione's. The door slowly swung open and they could see Muggle money inside … actual dollar bills. Mrs. Weasley started sifting through the stacks of money.

"Help me out here, dear. How much do you think she'll need for the year? I can't figure these Muggle prices …"

Grace held up two hundred dollar bills.

"All right, thank you. We'll have to get it exchanged up at the front desk …"

Back in the cart, and they were finally on their way to Grammy's vault.

Griphook slid the key into the keyhole, and the door slowly swung open. Inside was a decent amount of gold – not a fortune like Harry's, but more than Mrs. Weasley had in _her_ vault.

After exchanging Hermione's dollars and cents for Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts, they left the building and went first to the bookshop, Flourish and Blotts. Mrs. Weasley went up to the front counter and tried to catch the attendant's attention while Grace wandered around the store.

In one corner of the shop, she found a whole section dedicated to children's books. She sat for half an hour, enjoying Mad Muggle comic books and the very popular Nimrods series. Finally, Mrs. Weasley came by to collect her.

"I thought you'd be in here," she said. "It's nearly lunchtime. Come, we'll buy something to eat."

They ate a hurried lunch at The Caper Café and then continued shopping.

"Next stop is Madam Malkin's for you, dear. And then we'll have to go to Ethel's Extras, Hermione mentioned something about new socks, and then Sophie's Secondhand Shop, Ginny's robes are getting a bit too short, so are Ron's come to think of it …"

They went quickly through all those clothing stores, and then to the Apothecary for potion supplies, and then to Nettle's Necessary Items for her cauldron, scales, and telescope.

The second to last shop they visited was Ollivanders, to buy Grace a wand. She thought Mr. Ollivander was exactly as Harry and the others had described him: tall, eccentric, and just a little scary. After trying only ten or so different wands, he found the right one for her: eleven and a half inches, made of maple wood, and containing a unicorn hair.

Last but not least, Mrs. Weasley took her down to Fred and Geroge's shop. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was a nice, friendly, busy place, much like the Burrow. The sweets and firecrackers and other sorts of things were jammed together in an organized, yet helter-skelter fashion on rough, wooden shelves built into the wall. Fred stood behind the counter, helping three girls a little older than Grace make a selection. He grinned at the two of them as they entered.

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley!" he called with a grin. "I'll be with you in a moment. Feel free to shop around …"

"You know perfectly well I'm not buying anything," she said. "Is George in the back?"

"Yeah … hey, Grace …" Fred beckoned her over to the counter as Mrs. Weasley went into the back room. She drew closer.

"Heard you're starting Hogwarts this year."

She smiled. "Yep. Got my letter this morning."

"You want to buy a couple Skiving Snackboxes? You'd be the only one in your year with them …"

"No, I don't think so …"

"Aww, c'mon," said one of the girls. "It's all in good fun. The teachers all know about them."

"Of course," she said. "The demonstrations last year, Harry told me about Professor Um-"

"Argh!" cried Fred, clapping his hands over his ears. The other girls giggled. "We do not speak her name under this roof, oh unenlightened one!"

"Sorry."

"There's a whole list in the back," another of the girls said. "We'll take you there if you want. It's great."

Grace hesitated a moment before agreeing. "Sure."

"We'll be back in a moment," the first girl said to Fred.

"If you insist," he said as another customer came in. Grace allowed herself to be pulled through the same door Mrs. Weasley had just vanished into.

The back room of the shop turned out to be not a storage room, as she had expected, but a sort of … stage. Many large cushions were spread out on the floor. At the far end of the room was a raised platform, on which George Weasley stood. A large, wooden barrel filled with some kind of candy was set up on the stage next to him. There were a few more kids her age sitting or standing around the room, watching George intently. There was no sign of Mrs. Weasley.

The girls brought her over to a large chart that took up a sizable portion of the wall.

"That's what Fred was talking about," one of them said. "See, rule #3: No mentioning of Dolores Umbridge in this establishment."

"You can never take them seriously," said the second.

"Hey, there, Grace!" called George. She and the other girls moved closer to the platform. "Care to be my next tester?"

"No, I don't think so …"

"I will," said one of the girls.

"Jess!"

"Finally! A volunteer!" cried George. "Right this way, Jess. Here, just bite into this little morsel right here," he said, reaching into the barrel and pulling out what Grace recognized as an Electo.

Jess chewed the candy. Nothing happened for about five seconds, and then –

"Ouch!"

She spat it out onto the stage. "What _is_ that thing?"

"An Electo," offered Grace.

"That's right," said George. "Electos. Administer an electrical shock when come into contact with liquids. Just imagine your worst enemy chomping down on one of those …"

Jess grinned. "I'll take a dozen."

George laughed. "Don't get too hasty. They aren't for sell yet, but they'll be ready in time for the Christmas rush! Use the mail order slips provided in the back of our complementary catalogs!"

One of the girls shook her head exasperatingly. "We've got to go back to the front anyway. See you at school … Grace, is it?"

She nodded.

"We'll see you there. I'm Laurie, that's Jess over there, and the quiet one is Teri. We're in second year."

"See you," Grace said as Mrs. Weasley strode over to them, clutching a piece of parchment in her hand.

"Time to go, love. Will you be coming down for dinner?" she asked George.

"Not sure yet," he answered. "We'll probably stay in Muggle London tonight …"

-------------------

Mrs. Weasley and Grace made their way back down the now-darkening alleyways of Diagon Alley until they came to The Leaky Cauldron and Flooed home.

Home.

------------------------

A/N: Well, that was long. So, what did you think? Tell me (good or bad) when you review! And by the way, I am American and any intentional use of a British phrase other than "Mum" and "Post" is purely accidental. That's why Hermione has dollars in her bank account instead of pounds.

While I'm on the subject of reviews, thanks SO much to Miss Lady Padfoot, JCsDancerGurl, and Droplets of Hope for reviewing so much and a HUGE thank you to everyone that did, I really really really (I can't stress this enough) appreciate it.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters or places. They belong to JK Rowling. I own Grace and a bunch of the stores on Diagon Alley and Laurie, Jess, and Teri ... but they are all thanks to JK's creations!


	12. Surprise, Surprise

Surprise, Surprise

Finally the day arrived – she was finally going to Hogwarts.

The morning of September the first dawn bright and brilliant, with a spectacular sunrise. Grace rose early, too excited to sleep. She stood at the window in Ginny's room, watching the colors of the sky. The three trunks were packed and waiting by the door. Grace watched the sky until the sun had completely risen, then she went to use the bathroom before the others woke up.

---------------

The morning hours passed quickly, and soon it was a quarter to eleven and the Weasleys and several Order members piled out of the Ministry cars at King's Cross Station. The eleven of them hurried down to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Grace knew what to do, Ginny and Hermione had told her all about it last night, that all she had to do was walk straight into the brick wall dividing platforms nine and ten, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it … to walk right into a wall? Wasn't that a bit … stupid?

"Come on," Harry urged, grabbing her elbow. "We've got ten minutes to get on the train and find seats …"

Grace clung onto her trunk as Harry, Remus, and Tonks pulled her through the wall. She drew in her breath sharply, bracing herself for the impact that was sure to come …

It never came.

Grace looked up cautiously, and saw a huge, scarlet and black train, billowing steam and waiting for stragglers. She and Harry moved out of the way moments before Ron, Ginny, Mr. Weasley, and Emmeline Vance came bursting through the hidden entrance. Hermione, Kingsley, Moody, and the rest of their luggage came through a few seconds after.

"Have a good year," Mr. Weasley said distractedly. "Sorry Molly couldn't be here to see you off, she's on duty right now, she'll be writing you soon …"

"Speaking of writing," said Remus, moving forward, "remember what we told you last year …"

"When in doubt, don't write it," chimed Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

"Harry," Remus continued, "if you need someone to listen, I'm here, remember that."

"I'm fine, Professor," Harry said, and for the first time that summer he looked as though he truly meant it. Grace thought she saw Remus wince slightly as Harry called him "Professor".

"Right, there's an empty compartment up there," Ron said, pointing at a spot near the end of the train. "Let's go for it."

They gathered their things and started making their way across the crowded station, the adults following after.

Someone suddenly bumped into Grace, and the pile of books she was carrying fell out of her arms and scattered. She dived after them, and was soon separated from the rest of the group in a sea of people.

Grace knelt and gathered up her books. She had been carrying five of them, since they hadn't fit into her trunk, but she could only find four …

"Looking for this?" drawled a sneering voice. She stood up quickly and looked at the speaker, a boy around Harry's age with white-blonde hair …

The pieces fit together easily.

Behind Draco Malfoy stood a woman, the blonde haired woman that had convinced Grammy to take that trip two years ago …

They didn't recognize her, just sneered down at her in a nasty way. Malfoy spoke first.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I dropped my books …"

"Don't be in such a rush," he said. "The train usually never leaves until a quarter past eleven, you've got plenty of time."

Grace looked him square in the eye. So he thought she was just another stupid little muggle-born first year, did he?

"That's not what my cousin said, and he's been coming here for years."

"Oh yeah?" he sneered. "And just _who_ would that be, firstie?"

"That would be me," came a welcome voice.

"Potter?" sneered Malfoy. "So she _is_ a Mudblood, then?"

"No," Harry snapped. "She's a witch."

"Get out of here," Hermione added. She and the others had just caught up with Harry. "Before I tell Professor McGonagall on you."

"Or we could curse you right now, if you want," snarled Ron.

"Yes, that would bring back memories," said another boy, who had joined the argument.

Malfoy looked at the five of them, then muttered, "See you at school, firstie," and then stalked off behind his mother.

Harry glared after him for a moment, then turned to Grace and asked, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," she muttered. "I'm fine."

------------------

Later, Grace, Harry, and Ginny were sitting in a compartment with the boy that had jumped into their argument (Ernie Macmillan) and some of his Hufflepuff friends. Ron and Hermione were supposed to be back from their prefect meeting by now, but they weren't.

"There's no way the Ballycastles'll beat the Tornadoes this year," Ginny was saying. "The Tornadoes are much more prepared for this season, and look what happened last year, no one thought they could do it, but they ended the season in first place …"

"It was just a fluke," argued Justin Finch Fletchley. "The Tornados were never any good before, why should they start now?"

"I'm telling you, last year was a sign, they're going to take home the Cup this summer."

Their compartment door slid open.

"Hi," Hermione said breathlessly. She looked happy about something. "Sorry we got back so late … Malfoy was, uh, being nasty to one of the first years again."

"Yeah … absolutely nasty," Ron said with a dazed look on his face.

Ginny looked as though she was trying very hard not to laugh, Harry looked murderous, and the others looked slightly bemused.

"Have a seat," Ginny said, pushing a pile of candy wrappers onto the floor. Ron sat down next to her and Hermione, blushing slightly, took a seat next to Susan Bones.

The rest of the train ride passed happily as they sped north, across purple moors, broad valleys, low, rolling hills, and wilder forests. It grew steadily darker as they drew closer to Hogwarts.

Finally, a voice was heard over the loudspeaker. "We will be approaching Hogsmeade in fifteen minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken up to the school separately."

Ginny sent the boys out so she, Hermione, and Grace could change into their uniforms and robes. Grace's fingers trembled slightly as she undid the lock on her trunk, though she tried not to show it. Whenever she thought of the Sorting that was to take place in front of the entire school, she couldn't help but feel a little nervous. What if she wasn't put into Gryffindor, where Harry and everyone else before her had been?

All too soon, they were pulling into the station and exiting the train. Grace was almost separated from everyone else once again by the massive throng of students, but Ginny grabbed a corner of her robes and held on tight. Grace saw the girls she had met in the Weasleys' shop standing to the side. Jess, Laurie, and Teri. She waved shyly and they waved back.

"Come with me, firs' years!" called a voice. "Firs' years, this way, please."

"You've got to get to Hagrid," said Harry, pushing her in the right direction. "Go on, now. We'll see you inside."

"Good luck," said Hermione.

"You'll be fine," Ginny added.

They looked expectantly at Ron, who had been gazing dreamily in Hermione's direction. "Huh? Oh, yeah, you'll be fine. Nothing to worry about."

"Thanks," she grinned, then fought her way over to where Hagrid stood at the front of a small group of students her age.

"There yeh are, was wonderin' where yeh got to," said Hagrid, beaming down at her. His height came as a shock, but Grace had learned to expect anything in the magical world. "I've heard abou' yeh, o' course."

"You have?"

"Friend o' Dumbledore's," Hagrid said, and he winked. Grace took this to mean Hagrid was another member of the Order of the Phoenix that she hadn't met yet.

"All right, there, any more firs' years? Nope? Everyone here? Then let's go!"

Hagrid led them down a path through a large clump of trees. They walked in silence in the dark, shivering at the cold and perhaps also out of nerves. Finally, they came to the edge of a giant lake, where 30 small boats were waiting for them. Grace's eyes traveled from the boats … out across the lake … up to a beautiful castle, large and important and homey at the same time, with lights lit up in its windows that were reflected in the shimmering waters of the lake.

"Four to a boat, that's it, now."

Grace started. Everyone else was climbing into boats, where should she sit? She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet for a moment, then followed a blonde girl and a dark haired boy into a boat.

"Hi," said the blonde one. "I'm Marianne."

"Mark," the boy said sullenly.

"I'm Grace," Grace said. "Have you met before?"

"Yes, on the train. And he's been at my house before. Family stuff."

"Shut up, Marianne."

Marianne ignored him. "We're cousins, you know." She wore a smug look on her face. Mark looked depressed at that thought. "You _are_ from a wizarding family, aren't you?"

"Yes," she answered shortly.

"I didn't see you on the train."

"I had to sit with my older cousin," Grace explained. "He's really overprotective."

"Bummer," said Mark. "I know what _that's_ like."

"Yeah, my sister can be a real pain," Marigold said.

Mark and Grace shared a look as the boats began sailing across the lake to Hogwarts castle.

-------------------

They disembarked on the opposite shore and made their way up a flight of stone steps. Hagrid turned around when they came to a wooden door.

"Everyone here? Nobody fell into the lake, now did they?"

Once he was assured that they were all fine, Hagrid raised his hand and knocked three times on the door.

It swung open almost immediately. Behind the door stood a tall woman with sharp features and black hair – Minerva McGonagall, the woman who had taken Grace and Harry to headquarters …

Grace gave her a small smile. Professor McGonagall shook her head slightly, and Grace understood. Not here.

"Thank you, Professor Hagrid. I'll take them from here."

McGonagall led them through the door and into a huge room, with high-vaulted ceilings, marble floors, and a giant, curving, marble staircase. They walked through this hall into a small room. Professor McGonagall turned and stared down strictly at them all.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said. "The start-of-year feast will begin in a moment, but before you can take your seats in the Great Hall you must be Sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and has produced outstanding witches and wizards. You should all be proud to uphold the name of whichever house you are placed in.

"The Sorting ceremony will begin momentarily. You will all wait here while I make sure everything is ready. I'll be back soon."

And with that, she left the room.

The first years whispered excitedly to one another.

"I'd just die to be in Gryffindor, it's supposed to be the best of all."

"Harry Potter's in Gryffindor, you know. If we get in we might get a chance to meet him."

"Humph!" sniffed Marigold. "Gryffindor is all a bunch of noble idiots."

"Yeah, well Slytherin's for evil people."

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not! Mark, tell her she's wrong!"

Mark shied away from his cousin. "She's right, you know."

"Stop it!" Grace snapped. "You're all behaving like children. You heard the professor. Each house has its own –"

"We heard," Marigold snapped back. "And that's just a lot of rubbish she spews out to make sure that the ones who land up in _Hufflepuff_ don't feel bad."

Several people spoke up in protest at this, but Professor McGonagall entered the room at that point, silencing the argument.

"We're ready now," she said. "Form a line and follow me."

The first years stepped out into the Great Hall. It was lit up in all its splendor, long tapers floating in midair, casting a rosy, golden glow over everyone and everything, glinting off the golden plates. Everyone was staring at them as the line progressed down the middle of the hall. The ceiling – bewitched to look like the sky outside, according to Hermione – was a deep midnight blue, with several purple clouds rolling lazily across the pure white moon.

They finally reached a four-legged stool upon which a dirty, patched, and frayed hat sat. The Sorting Hat. The hat ripped a little, but the rip was shaped like a mouth, and it began to sing:

_I see the doubt in your face,_

_But trust me here, I know_

_That I am just a talking hat,_

_But your answer here is no._

_I am much smarter than you think,_

_I have a brain inside,_

_To Sort you is my chosen gift,_

_So come on now, don't hide …_

_It was a thousand years ago_

_When the school first took its name,_

_And Hogwarts has survived although_

_Her enemies are far from tame._

_The founders of our Hogwarts School_

_Were thought to be best friends,_

_But adversity and hardships_

_Almost led her to the end._

_Godric favored bravery,_

_Courage and honor too,_

_While Rowena favored wisdom,_

_Having not one brain, but two._

_And Helga, Helga Hufflepuff_

_Loved those with loyalty,_

_While Salazar, dark Salazar_

_Taught ambitious ones to reach …_

_And now that they are dead and gone,_

_The task's left up to me._

_I must divide those standing here,_

_That's how it's meant to be._

_So try me on and I will tell_

_To whom you should belong,_

_Don't worry about my judgment,_

_I've never yet been wrong!_

The rest of the school burst into applause while the first years stared around at each other uncertainly.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. "When I call your name, you will sit on the stool and put on the hat and wait to be Sorted.

"Bellsy, Mallory!"

A girl with long, swishy brown hair approached the stool and put the hat on her head. The hat considered for a moment, before letting out a resounding SLYTHERIN!

_The first one of the year_, Grace thought to herself, _a Slytherin_. _Imagine that_. The table on the far right cheered as Mallory took off the hat and hurried off to settle herself there.

Davy Cortman became a Ravenclaw, Ellie Douglass became a Slytherin, and so on …

"Parkinson, Marigold!"

Marigold sauntered forward, and the hat barely touched her head before it shouted SLYTHERIN!

"Parkinson, Mark!"

Mark came forward rather timidly. Professor McGonagall set the hat on his head. The hat seemed to take a long time deciding with him. Finally, it screamed SLYTHERIN just like it had for his cousin. Professor pulled the hat off and Grace could see tears starting to form in his eyes. He stood up slowly and went to sit next to his cousin.

She didn't have long to think about this, though, because the next name that was called out was –

"Potter, Grace!"

The Great Hall erupted in whispers and several people stood up so they could get a better look at her. Grace turned, wide eyed, to face the staff at the High Table and the Sorting Hat. She looked anxiously down the row of teachers until she met Hagrid's eyes. He smiled and nodded at her. She sent a shaky grin back and started toward the Sorting Hat.

It was quiet and dark inside; the hat fell down over her eyes. "Well, well, well," said a voice in her ear. "A Potter, then?"

_I guess so_, Grace replied. _I don't feel like one. Everyone says Harry and Mum and Dad were in Gryffindor and they were really brave and heroic, and I_ … _I'm babbling, aren't I_?

"Yes," answered the hat, and if it could have, it would have smiled. "You feel like you don't belong with them. You're not a part of that."

_Yes. Exactly._

"But you are, you know," it answered. "Brave, I mean. In your own way. Let's see … you've got a keen mind, if not one suited for intelligence. And a little bit of cunning, you'll stop at nothing to get what you want."

Grace blushed under the hat as the memory of grabbing Harry's letter and making him chase her all over the Dursleys' house came back.

"And – oh … Yes, this is it. I've got the perfect place for you!

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

---------------

A/N: Did you like that chapter? I thought Grace was going to be in Gryffindor too, but she ... didn't seem the type to me. By the way, the Sorting Hat's songs, I've always put them to the tune of that song from the movie Prince of Egypt ... Through Heaven's Eyes or something. I'll try to update soon. Thanks so much everyone who reviewed so far!

Disclaimer: Most of the characters and all of Hogwarts belong to JK Rowling. I was just having fun with her creations! Grace, the Parkinson cousins, Jess, Laurie, and Teri belong to me.


	13. Different

Disclaimer: I don't own Hogwarts or most of the characters. The ones I do own are the ones you don't recognize. All the others are owned by JK Rowling, who is a fantastic and creative author. I was just having some fun with her world.

Different

_ "HUFFLEPUFF!"_

Grace trembled slightly, acutely aware of the shocked silence in the room around her, as if she had suddenly gone deaf. Her eyes were still covered by the inside of the Sorting Hat so she couldn't see the faces of all the students, but she could imagine their staring, flabbergasted faces.

The hat was yanked off quite suddenly, and the Great Hall gleamed golden. She blinked a few times, trying to get used to the light. There was no applause from any of the tables; she had no idea where to go.

All of a sudden, a flurry of waving hands caught her eye. It was Laurie, one of the girls she had met in the Weasleys' shop, beckoning her over to what she hoped was the Hufflepuff table. With a pained glance at Professor McGonagall, who stood beside her, Grace lifted herself tenderly out of the seat and walked with trembling knees to a long table.

She seated herself silently next to the three second-year girls, keenly aware of the school's eyes on her back. The Hufflepuff table was next to the Gryffindor one, where Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Ron sat. Where her parents had sat before her. She heard, as though from a great distance, as Professor McGonagall called the next name on her list. Grace looked directly into her twin's eyes, biting her lip, trying very hard not to cry or scream or act like the immature brat she surely looked next to her brother: Harry Potter, the Gryffindor.

Harry's eyes met hers, she knew he understood what she was thinking; she wanted to talk to him, to be with him, this very moment. If only she could cross over to the Gryffindor table without anyone noticing …

A soft hand slipped into hers as another girl joined the Ravenclaws. Looking to her side, Grace saw Teri looking down at her, a knowledgeable, understanding look on her face.

"It's not that bad," she whispered. "It'll be all right, you'll see."

Grace stared up at her.

"How'd you know –"

"Shhhhh," Teri whispered again. "Later."

The Sorting continued, the number of students waiting to be Sorted dwindling quickly, until finally the last of the first years had seated themselves and Professor Dumbledore was standing up to talk.

"First years should take into account that the Forbidden Forest is, obviously, forbidden," he said, sounding as if he'd been saying those words for far too long, "as is the village to all those above third year, and then only on the designated weekends. Quidditch tryouts will begin a week from today. Anyone interested should contact their house captain. Mr. Filch asks me to remind you all to please review the list of forbidden items, which, incidentally, seem to include quite a lot of objects from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

Over at the Gryffindor table, Ron and Ginny both blushed crimson. Dumbledore smiled at them.

"And that is all I feel up to saying at the moment, so dig in!" These last words were shouted, as he was trying to make himself heard over the noise of the crowd; the gleaming, golden plates had just filled themselves with food, and the school seemed to be "digging in" without any encouragement from their headmaster.

Grace stared around at all the platters – she'd never seen so much food, never! Grammy never even prepared this much when she was planning on hosting a dinner party. She looked around the Great Hall, doing calculations in her mind … there must be at least one thousand students … and of course the professors …

"Gracie?"

She glanced up at the sound of her old nickname to see Harry leaning across Laurie and Jess, his face almost in hers.

"You want to talk?"

She looked into his eyes, biting her lip. "No, I'll be fine, don't worry about me. I … we'll talk later. I can't … not now …"

"I'm proud of you, you know that, right? No matter what house you're in?"

"Right."

"They'd be proud too. They wouldn't care whether you –"

Grace nodded quickly, cutting her brother off. "I get it."

"Okay," he said, a dubious look spreading across his face, his floppy black hair falling into his eyes. He pushed it non-chelantly to the side. "See you later."

"How do you know …" squeaked Laurie as Harry returned to his table.

"What?"

"Harry Potter," chorused Laurie and Jess together.

Grace sighed. Of course. She knew the rest of the wizarding world was obsessed with Harry and his every move. She should have expected this …

"He's my … my cousin …"

"Really?" asked Jess interestedly. "I thought all his family was dead."

"Well, I'm not."

"There's the muggle side too, don't forget them," replied Laurie. "His aunt and uncle and cousin. So you're from that side." It wasn't a question.

"I'd rather not-"

"Leave her alone already," Teri said in an angry tone. "She doesn't want to talk about that, so just drop it!"

"All right, don't get so mad!"

"Why haven't you two started eating yet?"

Grace looked over at Teri's empty plate as Teri looked at hers. They caught each other's eye, and dug in.

Salads after salad, chicken, pork, beans, rice, vegetable platters, fruit platters, potatoes … there seemed to be no end to the feast. Grace sampled a bit of everything, trying to ignore Laurie and Jess's conversation.

"Kittie says she wants Brad to kiss her."

"Ewww! Not the ultra-nerd!"

"That's what I told her, she ran out of the compartment crying, what a baby."

"Right in front of everyone, too!"

Grace sighed and tried to find something else to concentrate on. She looked over at the Slytherin table. Marigold was busy talking to what looked like a core group of Slytherins that included Draco Malfoy. Mark was sitting with the group as well, but he looked extremely unhappy. Grace remembered everything Harry and his friends had said about Slytherins over the summer, how you could never trust them, how they were always looking out for number one and only number one. She looked away from Mark, and turned her attention to the large number of Hufflepuff first years. She longed to be with them, to sit with someone who actually understood how nervous and scared she was … they could get through this night together …

But no, she was stuck, sitting either with the second years or with Harry, a sixth year. She'd always gotten along better with those a few years older than herself.

__

_ Gee_, _wonder why_? she thought sarcastically. _I'm supposed to be one of them _…

__

_ Snap out of it_, she told herself sharply. _You're _not, _no sense dwelling about it_.

Grammy's voice came into her mind. "No use crying over spilled potion." Nothing she could do about it now.

"… So that's how you'll be starting classes, Grace, nice, small, easy stuff …" a fourth year sitting with the second year girls was saying. "Doesn't really get difficult until third year. Gives you lots of time to master the basics."

Grace nodded wordlessly and poked at her drumstick, not really caring about the conversation.

The dinner vanished almost instantly, leaving in its place a great dessert – anything anyone could ever hope to eat: ice cream and pies and cakes and cookies and sweets and more fruit platters … Grace ate a few spoonfuls of ice cream without really tasting them, all she remembered was that there were many different flavors, almost as many flavors as there had been in the Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans she had tried on the train earlier.

Finally, the plates cleared and they were spotless and golden once more. Dumbledore stood up at the front of the room and all chatter slowly died away.

"Welcome one and all to another year at Hogwarts," he called, silencing the last of the whisperers in all corners of the hall. "First, we would like to welcome Professor Bowtry to our staff. He will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

The announcement met applause as a young, blonde man stood and waved to the politely clapping students. The applause died away and Dumbledore continued, a terrible look on his face.

"It is with some amount of sadness that I welcome you. I do not know how many of you were aware of this, but three of your fellow students were murdered over the summer."

Conversation in the hall went back into full swing. From looking around, Grace could tell not many had known of the attacks.

"Colin and Dennis Creevey, as well as Terrance Jittery, were involved in attacks over the summer. These attacks were initiated by Lord Voldemort. They were murdered simply for being muggleborns."

There was anger trembling in his voice now. "I pose a question to all of you now. Will you allow this?"

Most of the students were muttering to their friends, some with worried expressions, some with ones of glee. Grace could see Harry, Ron, and Hermione, discussing this piece of news with looks of shock. Most of the Gryffindors were sweeping their eyes up and down the table, looking for two brothers who were not there.

"I am sorry to end on such a dreadful note, but such are the times we live in. At times such as these, it is imperative that you continue your magical education. We must all be prepared for the worst in these dark times. Hurry along to bed now, so that you may be well rested for your lessons tomorrow."

There was the sound of many chairs scraping – the students were getting ready to leave. Dumbledore called out suddenly, "Wait a moment! The following students are requested to stay a moment longer," he said, reading the names off a tattered piece of parchment. "Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Padma Patil, Cho Chang, Luna Lovegood, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Ginny Weasley, Seamus Finnigan."

Grace froze in her seat and looked over at the Gryffindor table. Harry and his friends looked slightly puzzled, Hermione seemed to be ticking something off on her fingers. Harry looked up at her and shrugged.

"Come on," said Jess. "We'll show you the common room. It's so cool, right by the kitchens and everything."

"Oh … shouldn't I go with the other first years?"

"Nah, it's all right, you can come with us."

Grace sighed and pushed her chair back. "Lead on, then."

-------------------

The way to the Hufflepuff common room wasn't long, only down a short flight of steps off the Entrance Hall that led to a low ceilinged, comfortable, underground room. There were several paintings lining the walls.

"That's the one, right over there," Laurie said, dragging the other three over to it. It was a lovely picture of a rose, with a pixie hopping and prancing somewhere off in the background.

"What's the password?"

"'Flower Power,'" answered a fifth year prefect from behind them. "And _I'm_ supposed to take the first years."

"Umm, yeah, well …" Jess was saved the trouble of having to think up an answer; the painting swung open just then, revealing a large, rectangular doorway. Laurie grabbed Grace's elbow and Jess's shoulder, Jess grabbed Teri's arm, and together, they darted quickly into the common room.

"Hufflepuff's harder to decorate than the other houses," Laurie explained, watching as Grace examined the large room. "Yellow doesn't go too well with many colors."

"I think it's wonderful," Grace said truthfully. The room had low ceilings and a long fireplace that spanned most of the far wall. There was dark wood paneling on the walls. Several short, bright yellow chairs, couches, and tables were spread about, but the majority of the wood floor was taken up by large, fluffy pillows, much like the ones in the Weasleys' shop. They looked very much like beanbag chairs.

"There's the girls' bathroom on that side," Jess was saying, pointing to a door on the right side of the room. "And the entrance to the dorms is right next to it."

"The boys' dorms are on the other side," Laurie said, giggling.

Grace could see Teri rolling her eyes.

"Come, we'll show you where the first years sleep …"

Jess took her hand, as if she were a five-year-old, and led her through the door and down a long hallway, the other two following behind. "Firsties are always at the back, for some reason. Seventh year … sixth … fifth … fourth … third … second, that's ours … and first."

"Everyone else should be in there now," Laurie said. "Don't try to get the shower now, it's a nightmare. They're free in the morning."

"Thanks," Grace said quietly. "See you tomorrow, then?"

"Sure."

"'Night," Grace grinned at them, and pushed the dorm door open.

Inside were three low mats, covered in some kind of furry black fabric. There was no one else in the room. She supposed they were trying to get the showers.

Grace walked slowly over to the wall, examining the two large windows, through which she could glimpse silvery stars gleaming in a dark sky. "I thought we were underground," she whispered, staring at the night sky.

"They're enchanted," snapped a girl's voice. Grace turned. She had dark brown hair and brown eyes. "Don't you know anything? You're a Potter, after all."

Embarrassed, Grace lifted her chin defiantly. "So I'm not allowed to ask a simple question? Who are you, anyway?"

"She's Stacy, and I'm Tracy," said another girl, coming through the door as well. "We're best friends. Guess we'll be roommates."

"Nice to meet you," Grace said. "You guys want to take those beds? I can sleep in the corner …"

"Yeah, sure, ignore us just like you ignored everyone else in our year today," the first girl said. "Everyone talks about Potters. We all saw how you'd rather sit with the second years than us. Too good for us, are you?"

"I … I never thought that. I'll take the middle bed if it makes you feel any better."

"Don't bother, Potter, just pull your mat as far away from us as you'd like. We won't stop you."

The first girl turned her back on Grace and went to drag her trunk (all three had already been brought down to their room) over to the middle bed. The second girl sent Grace an apologetic look, but joined her sister. Grace bit her lip, forcing herself to keep from crying, and dragged her trunk across the hard, wooden floor. She placed it in the far corner, and then pulled her black, furry mat over as well.

__

_ It isn't so bad_, she told herself twenty minutes later, once the other girls were asleep. _Sleeping in a dorm isn't fun anyways_, _with everybody prying into all your things _… _if I strung up a curtain I could actually have my own room_, _and a bit of privacy _…

Hogwarts wasn't supposed to be like this, she was supposed to be sleeping in a soft, warm four poster in Gryffindor common room … eating meals at the Gryffindor table … roommates who liked her … Harry hadn't described school like this, ever. He'd never described this lonely, almost homesick feeling that was swelling up inside her. She wanted to be with her twin …

----------------------

A/N: I know nothing happens in this chapter, but things will (hopefully) start happening soon. Voldemort is not gone.

Someone asked in the last chapter whether I had written the Sorting Hat's song myself. Yes, I wrote it, and please don't use it without asking me, it took me a while to write.

So, thank you for reading and please ... review! Thanks to everyone who reviewed so far, I appreciate it a lot.


	14. School Life

Disclaimer: The characters and places in this story all belong to JK Rowling, an amazingly talented writer, except for the plot of this fic and some characters I have created. You'll know them when you get to them.

A/N: I'm really sorry about the bad half-chapter I had up. I felt terrible about not putting something up before school started, simply because I knew I wasn't going to be back for weeks and ... I just couldn't do it. So if you've read the chapter that was up before, I added a little bit more into Grace's conversation with Helga Hufflepuff, but other than that you can skip down to after Malfoy's threat and read from there.

School Life

Grace woke the next morning to find the room empty. She shook off her black comforter, grabbed a robe out of her trunk, and sped out of the dorm and down the hallway to the bathroom. Like Jess and Laurie had said last night, the showers were practically empty. She took a quick shower, dressed, and then hurried up to the Great Hall for breakfast.

"Grace! Over here!"

Reluctantly, Grace followed the sound of the voice to the three second-year girls who were sitting alone at the end of the table. She'd have rather sat with the other first years ...

"Guess who the Head Girl's boyfriend?"

"Wasn't she going out with Harry Potter last year?"

Grace tried to block them out. She stared over at the Gryffindor table, where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in deep discussion.

"That's so - so _last year_, Jess. She going with Mike Corner now."

"The _fifth_ year?"

"That's right."

Terri looked bored as well. "Grace, why don't I take you to your first class. Come on, grab a schedule, we can bring some toast up or something."

Grace nodded eagerly, grabbing a schedule and kicking her chair back. Jess and Laurie gave the two of them haughty looks as they left the table.

"They can be terrible, sometimes," Terri said as they navigated through the silent halls on the way to Transfiguration. "The things they say about people ... Anyway ... why do you think all those people were held back last night after the feast? My brother and your cousin ..."

"I don't know," Grace replied. "Who were those boys? Creevey and Jittery ...?"

"Jittery's a sixth year," Terry answered. "He ... was my brother's friend. He was supposed to come by our house this summer, but he never answered Justin's owls."

"What about the Creeveys?"

"Brothers, third year and fifth. I think they all lived in the same town. Dad told us about the attack," Terri continued. "He said the whole town had been destroyed, there was nothing left."

Grace shivered at the thought of Voldemort's power. "What if he comes here?"

"He won't, don't worry," Terri said. "Here, take this." She paused and reached into her book bag, pulling out a worn, leather book. "_Hogwarts, a History_. It talks all about security wards and things around here."

"Thanks," Grace said, taking the book and putting it into her own bag.

"That wasn't his style last year," Terri continued as they started walking again. "Last year he was stealthier, picking off ... picking off people one by one, rather than murdering a whole town at once."

"Suppose so," Grace said.

"Here we are," Terri said brightly as the first bell rang. "McGonagall's all right, even if she does tend to favor the Gryffindors a bit. It's not as bad as Snape, though."

"Thanks for taking me."

"No problem. Just wait out here for her. I've got to run, I'm going to be late for Defense," Terri said, running off in the opposite direction.

Grace set her book bag on the floor and slid down next to it, waiting for the rest of the Hufflepuffs to show up. Memories came to mind unwillingly, memories of Grammy's shriek of surprise ... not pain, but surprise. Memories of her and a tiny, balding man standing alone in a dark clearing ... no, not alone. There was something else, a spirit ... an angry spirit.

Lord Voldemort.

Harry had told her about that. She knew Voldemort was after her twin, that ... that Harry either had to kill Voldemort or be killed by him.

Grace clenched her fists in anger at Voldemort. Tears sprung to her eyes. He had murdered an entire town in search of Harry. So many people killed ... all because of some stupid prophecy ...

* * *

The first year Hufflepuffs had Charms with the Slytherins after Transfiguration. Grace moved through the hallways and corridors with the rest of the group, not speaking to anyone simply because they would not speak to her.

"Why the long face, dearie?"

Grace started at the voice. She let the rest of the group pass her by as she stared up at a portrait of a medieval woman with a round, kind face. A placard at the bottom of the painting read _Helga Hufflepuff_.

"Aren't you excited? Your first day at Hogwarts!"

"Not very," she replied, moving closer to the painted woman's face.

"Nervous? It's a very nice school, nothing to be worried about. I should know. I've been hanging in this corridor over sixty years and have never seen a first year so depressed on the first day."

"It's my brother," Grace said quietly, making sure there was no one else around her. "We're not in the same house, and he's _years_ older, and nobody else will talk to me, except Laurie, Jess, and Terri, and Terri doesn't talk much, and my roommates don't like me – one of them, anyway, and …"

She stopped, realizing suddenly that she was rambling. Helga looked down kindly at her.

"Things will get better, dear, you know they will. Give it a little time and everything will start to make sense. No one makes best friends the first day."

"My brother did."

That wasn't exactly true, though. Harry had said he and Ron became friends before they even got to Hogwarts, but it took them two whole months to become friendly with Hermione, and now the three were inseparable.

Something of what she was thinking must have shown on her face, because Helga smiled at her, her bright red hair shining in the painted sunlight.

"You see? It'll turn out all right, dearie, just you wait and see. You're a Hufflepuff, I can tell," Helga added, nodding at the badge on the front of her robes. "One of my own. I'm sure you'll do lovely, dear."

"Thank you," Grace replied quietly, because it seemed like the right thing to do.

"Feel up to a bit of exploring?" Helga asked. "The dormitories are full of old mementos … initials, lost diaries, things of that sort. It's quiet fascinating. Something to tell your new friends about."

Grace murmured something in agreement, though she thought that she'd sound very much like Hermione if she started talking to people about school history. She heard a small noise down the hall and turned her head. Professor Flitwick was standing by the entrance to the Charms classroom.

"Come along, Miss Potter, don't dawdle, now!"

"Good-bye," she whispered to Helga, slung her book bag over her shoulder, and hurried off.

* * *

Lunchtime finally rolled around, but Grace avoided the Great Hall. She didn't feel like sitting with Jess and Laurie and listening to the school gossip, Terri was nowhere to be seen. _Maybe she's joined a lunchtime study group_, Grace thought. That seemed like the sort of thing Terri would do.

She had just decided that she might as well go off to the common room and work on the homework they'd been given in Transfiguration – homework on the first day! – when she heard voices coming from around the corner.

"It's not like it'll be difficult, Father said we'd –"

Grace stared as the owner of the voice rounded the corner. Draco Malfoy, flanked by two extremely large boys, just a bit smaller than Dudley.

She glared up at him with suppressed rage, trying to be reasonable with herself, but failing. _He_ wasn't the one would had forced Grammy to take that trip to Albania, that had been his parents.

Malfoy was grinning evilly at her. The five-year difference in their ages was clear as he and his cronies stood at least a foot taller than her.

"Potter," he snapped. "Never told me who you were, did you?"

"It was none of your business," she said coldly, looking for ways to escape.

"No _cousin_ to save you this time," Malfoy said. "You like your cousin, don't you, Potter?"

Grace only glared, not rising to anything. _Just keep quiet_. _Don't say anything they can use against you_.

"Almost as much as you liked your grandmother?"

The intensity of her stare grew, and she exhaled a sharp breath through her nose.

Malfoy grinned.

_Ignore bullies and they'll go away_. _Ignore bullies and they'll go away_. _Ignore bullies __and they'll go away_.

But Malfoy was much, much more than a bully. His side was large and powerful.

"You wouldn't want something to happen to him, would you, Potter?"

No, his side might be large and powerful, but they were still bullies. Lucius Malfoy, Bella Lestrange, Voldemort, all of them.

_Ignore bullies and they'll go away_.

"Because I'd tread very carefully around Hogwarts if I were you. _Very _carefully. Or else there might be an accident. If you know what I mean, Potter."

Grace nodded slightly, making sure to keep her chin erect. "If you'll excuse me." She slipped through the gap between Malfoy and one of the cronies and sped off down the hall to the Hufflepuffs' underground lair.

* * *

It was a lot farther to the common room than she had realized; lunch was nearly over by the time Grace found her way back to the Entrance Hall. She found that she wasn't very hungry, and had decided to try and find her next class – Defense – when she heard someone calling her name.

"Grace! Gracie! Over here!"

She whirled around, her nerves on edge at both the sound of her old nickname and Malfoy's threat. It was a relief to see Harry running towards her from across the Hall.

"How's your day so far?" he asked.

"Lousy," she said truthfully.

"What, Snape gave you a load of homework?"

"Oh, stop gloating, Harry," she shot back. "Just because _you_ don't have to take him anymore … we haven't even had him yet. And besides, I thought he only hated Gryffindors."

"Snape hates everyone," her brother said fervently. "What do you have next?"

"Defense."

"I'll take you there," Harry said, grabbing her by the elbow and guiding her toward the marble staircase. "I wanted to tell you, before …" He trailed off, glaring suspiciously at two older Ravenclaws who were passing them.

They were at the top of the staircase when Grace worked up the courage to ask. "Tell me what?"

Harry didn't answer for a moment, as if he was choosing the best way to phrase whatever it was he wanted to tell his twin. "You know the boys Dumbledore mentioned last night?"

She nodded. "The Creeveys and Jittery. Terri says her brother was friends with Terrance Jittery …"

"Terri Finch-Fletchley?" Harry asked. Grace shrugged.

"Probably. I don't know. She said her brother got held back last night."

"Justin's little sister," Harry murmured. "They were friends."

Grace knew he was talking about Justin and Terrance Jittery. They began another flight of stairs. "_So_?" she asked impatiently.

"Dumbledore said not to tell you," Harry continued. "He said you were too young, but … Dennis was only thirteen …" he trailed off again, staring down at his feet. "Death's terrible, you know that? Especially in war. You never know who's going to die next. Voldemort picks off people here, picks off people there … people – people die by accident …"

_Like Sirius_? Grace wanted to ask, but she didn't think she could work up the nerve. _I'm definitely not a Gryffindor_. That only made her more depressed.

"He didn't even need to die … the others didn't, none of them … it was too early, it wasn't their time …"

"They wouldn't have died if it wasn't their time," she ventured softly. "That's the point, isn't it? If you … if you wanted to use those Time-Turner thingies and change the events, it wouldn't be right. That's the way it's supposed to be. It can't have been an accident. Everything always happens for a reason," she finished.

He just shook his head slowly from side to side as they made their way up a corridor. "You don't – understand … you're too young – I'm starting to sound like a grown-up, aren't I?"

"Just a little," Grace admitted, putting on a small grin.

Harry suddenly looked up, as if he hadn't taken in any of their surroundings. "We're nearly there, and I haven't told you yet," he said. "Listen – the Creeveys and Jittery, they all lived in the same town, right –"

"Terri said so –"

"Listen to me," he said, a little louder. "We're almost there, I have to – it was near London, Gracie, near London. The town. They lived in –"

"Mr. Potter," said a smooth, cool voice. Harry and Grace turned so fast Grace could feel her head spinning.

It was Professor Bowtry, his long, blonde flopping gently around his face, his large smile. "Or Harry, I should say. N.E.W.T. level, aren't you?"

"Yes," he answered, half defensively, half exasperatingly at being interrupted.

"I was just on my way to make sure the new students were able to find my classroom," Professor Bowtry said. "They seem to have moved the Defense classroom. I remember it was on the other side of the building when I was here. But it seems you've taken to helping the first years yourself. Thank you. But I believe I'll take Miss Potter from here."

"Oh," Harry said, looking urgently at Grace. "It's all right, I can take her to the …"

"Don't you have class soon?"

"Go on, Harry," Grace insisted. His protective older brother habits were starting to get a little annoying. They were twins, after all, weren't they? Equals?

"I'll talk to you later," Harry replied purposefully as he turned and jogged back up the passageway they had just come down.

* * *

A/N: I hope that was better. I will definitely never post a half chapter again. Anyway, thanks guys for all the wonderful reviews, they really make my day. I hope you'll review again!


	15. The Poet and the Secret

Disclaimer: None of the characters or places belong to me except Grace, Terrence Jittery, Teri, Jess, Laurie, and most of the first years. Everything else belongs to the wonderfully talented JK Rowling.

The Poet and the Secret

Grace turned and followed Professor Bowtry into the classroom. There was a row of windows along one wall of the large room, strong sunlight gleamed in and glinted off his hair. She blushed a little and quickly slammed her books down onto the nearest desk, hoping he hadn't noticed.

But Professor Bowtry was making his way toward his own desk. He leapt up onto it, swinging his legs slightly back and forth. Grace stared at him – she had never seen a teacher so … so relaxed and comfortable.

Professor Bowtry looked as if he understood her thoughts. "I've only graduated a couple years ago," he said softly, confidentially. "Class of '92, to be exact. Never thought I'd be back here so soon."

Unsure of what to say, Grace muttered, "Really?" but otherwise remained silent.

"The school grows on you," he continued, staring out the window as if he were speaking more to himself than to her, but she knew he was aware of her presence nonetheless. She watched his profile, silhouetted against the sunlight. "It's unlike any other place I've ever been, it sucks you into it, so you are totally consumed by the ravaging beast …"

And he reached dreamily into his bag, pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, and started jotting something down.

Grace stared at Professor Bowtry, her mouth slightly open and one eyebrow raised, but she was spared the necessity of answering by the sound of the bell and the entrance of the rest of the class.

There was a general buzz of noise while Professor Bowtry finished scribbling on the parchment. He looked up suddenly, as though surprised to see so many people in the room.

"Settle down!" he called, his voice cracking a little. Grace grinned to herself. She looked around the room for someone to share the amusement with, but the only people she recognized were Marigold and Mark, the Parkinson cousins. It seemed like the Slytherins and the Hufflepuffs had Defense together. Marigold was sitting in the center of a large Slytherin crowd. Mark was sitting on the outskirts, looking thoroughly disgusted at both his cousin and their teacher.

Professor Bowtry jumped off the desk and cleared his voice. "Settle down," he repeated, a little bit deeper. Grace did some quick calculations – if he had been 18 in 1992, then that meant he was 22 now. Too old for her … _I mean_, _too young to be a teacher_, she quickly corrected herself.

"Right, I expect you're all waiting for an introduction of some sort," he called out once the class had quieted. "Well, you won't be getting one. If you had been paying attention during the Welcoming Feast you would know my name, and unless you're blind, you'll be able to see the sign outside the door quite clearly. I don't have time to go into my grading system and note taking and tests and all that, so let's jump right in at the beginning, shall we?

"Everyone open your books, turn to page 6, and read section one. You have … ten minutes, starting now."

Grace, along with the rest of the class, goggled up at their teacher. This young professor was nothing like strict, rigid McGonagall or tiny, controlling Flitwick. He was … a race onto his own.

_He was perfect_ …

_Stop that_, she scolded herself, lowering her eyes to her book. _He's your teacher_, _that's all_. _Besides_, _he's twenty-two_!

Professor Bowtry had apparently just noticed that most of the class hadn't even opened their books yet.

"Would you say you'd all be ready to be quizzed on section one right now?"

At the blank stares from the students, Professor Bowtry smiled grimly at them all. "Then get to work!"

Grace buried her face in the book and read:

__**_The Salamander_ **

_**The Salamander has many magical properties that oft-times make it a highly sought-after pet. The tail of a salamander, for example, can be used in several Burn reducing potions …**_

Ten minutes later, Professor Bowtry hopped back on the desk and clapped his hands together three times.

"Right, can I have everyone's attention, please!" he called. Grace looked up, though she wasn't even halfway through the lesson.

"How many of you finished the reading?"

A few hands were raised tentatively in the air. She was relieved to learn that she was not the only one who hadn't completed the assignment.

"All right, five extra credit points to … Tiffany, Mark, Janet, and Larry. Everyone else, finish reading the section for our next class, I think that's … Thursday?"

"Wednesday," one of the Slytherins called out from the back.

"So please have the section read by Wednesday," Professor Bowtry concluded. He paused a moment and waited for the flurry of movement of students reaching for their homework planners to die down.

Grace scrawled, "Read sec. 1 4 Wed." on a scrap of parchment and slipped it into her book. She didn't feel much like digging for her planner now.

"Natalie, if you could pass these out," Professor Bowtry was saying up at the front of the room, handing a Hufflepuff girl was long, blond hair a stack of parchment. "You can work on these worksheets in pairs for the rest of the period," he continued. "Use your book to find the answers."

"Will they be graded?" someone called.

"No."

"Do we have to work in pairs?" Grace asked, her hand in the air.

"No," came the reply. She took the parchment that Natalie offered her and looked at the first question. _What are three ways the grasshopper is useful in Defensive potions_?

_Grasshoppers_, Grace thought to herself as she skimmed section one. Nothing came up. There was no mention of grasshoppers in section two, or in section three.

"Can I work with you?"

She looked up and saw Mark Parkinson, the Slytherin, standing above her.

"Why?"

"Because you're the only one actually doing the work, and I want to finish the worksheet as well."

Grace looked around. It was true, Professor Bowtry had gone back to scribbling on his parchment and the rest of the class was gathered in small groups of three and four, chatting comfortably.

"We're probably going to have it as homework," Mark continued, "and I'd rather get it over with now."

"All right," she said, reaching across the aisle and pulling a chair up. "Have you gotten very far?"

"Not past number one."

"Me neither," she said with a small smile, and they began to work.

Class ended, and the first years hurried to their fourth and last class of the day: Potions. Grace dreaded going into the dungeons; she'd heard enough stories of Professor Snape's general nastiness that she wasn't looking forward to the next forty-five minutes at all.

The Hufflepuffs had Potions with the Ravenclaws, and Grace was once again left sitting at a table all alone. She set up her cauldron and waited for class to start. It was a long wait.

The door to the dungeons banged open suddenly. Everyone turned in their seats to see who had come in, and shrank back when they saw it was none other than … Professor Snape.

"Eyes up front!" he snapped.

They all turned to face the front of the room while the professor strode between the rows of cauldrons.

"Potion brewing is a very different branch of magic than that which some of you are used to," Professor Snape said quietly. "Not many wizards are skilled in this area, and I don't expect many of you to exceed either. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, stopper death … the question is, have you got brains enough to understand me?"

_The Challenge_, Grace thought to herself. Well, she'd have to continue the Potter tradition and make Professor Snape look like a fool in front of everyone, wouldn't she? She vowed then and there to brew every potion he set them perfectly.

Professor Snape began roll call, pausing every so often to play "Wizarding Geography" with a student.

"So you've got a cousin out in Bristol?" he asked one terrified girl in pigtails. "I have family out there as well, what a coincidence."

"Do you happen to be related to the Kent Diggles?" he asked a Ravenclaw boy.

But Grace knew that when he got to her name, she would not be asked a question about her relatives … Harry had told her how Professor Snape had embarrassed him during _his_ first lesson.

"Grace Potter …" he said silkily, a nasty look on his face. _Starting on me already_, _are you_? "Just when I thought I was rid of your insufferable _cousin_," with a slight emphasis on that word, "another Potter comes along."

"Yep, that's me," Grace answered as haughtily as she could. "Insufferable Potter's cousin. I'm sure he's just as glad to get out of your class as you are that he's left."

Professor Snape stared at her, along with the rest of the class. Quite possibly, no first year had ever stood up to him like that before.

"Taking after your cousin already, are we, Miss Potter," he sneered. "_Ten_ points from Hufflepuff," there were soft gasps from all the Hufflepuffs, "and … a detention with me tomorrow night. Eight o'clock. Dungeons."

Grace drew back into her seat, dejected. Ten whole points! There was no way any of the others would talk to her now …

_Harry lost one hundred and fifty points_, a tiny voice in the back of her head reminded her, _and people still like him_.

So she stuck out her chin. "See you then, sir," she shot back at him with a grim smile.

Professor Snape stared at her a moment longer before returning to the roll call.

They didn't get a chance to brew a potion that day; Professor Snape had them take notes on different potions ingredients. He said they wouldn't actually be making a potion until after the holidays.

There were still plenty of ways to show him up in class, Grace decided. She planned to spend a good few hours looking over her notes and reading ahead in the textbook that night.

Grace sat with Teri, Jess, and Laurie during dinner. Just as she was finishing her pumpkin pie, Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall, all three looking disgruntled about something. Harry waved the other two on and went straight for the Hufflepuff table.

"Want to go walking?" he asked Grace.

"Sure," she said quickly, remembering the _thing_ he had wanted to tell her earlier. She grabbed her bag, said good-bye to Teri, and followed her brother out of the Hall.

They walked side by side quickly and silently. Grace had no idea where they were going; she followed Harry's lead, up the marble staircase, down two corridors, up another flight of stairs …

Harry halted suddenly next to a large mirror. He scanned the bottom of the gilded frame, searching for something …

"Dissendium," he whispered, tapping his wand against a small golden pendent in the shape of the Hogwarts crest. The mirror swung forward creakily and Harry ushered her inside.

Behind the mirror it was dark and dusty. Grace muttered "Lumos" as Harry climbed in after her and pulled the back of the mirror shut behind him.

"Good thinking," he said, lighting the tip of his wand as well.

"What is this place?" Grace asked, peering into the darkness.

"It's a tunnel that used to lead down to Hogsmeade," Harry said, "but you can't get out of it anymore, it's caved in. Dad and … Sirius and Lupin used to come through here. Filch doesn't know about it."

Grace held her wand up a bit higher. This was where her dad had sneaked out of the castle … gone down to Hogsmeade to buy candy or firewhisky or a bag of Zonko's tricks …

"We don't have much time," Harry continued in an urgent whisper, so reminiscent of Professor McGonagall when she had whisked them out of the Dursleys' house in the summer. "I'm not supposed to … right, so last night, Dumbledore talked to all of us who were in the D.A. last year – you know what the -?"

"Yeah."

"He talked to us about the Creeveys and Jittery, wanted to know whether we wanted to … that's not important … He was talking to us and told us where they had lived … they lived in Westerham."

The name hit her terribly, Grace inhaled sharply and held her breath, her heart started beating very fast, pounding against her rib cage.

"Are … are you sure?"

"I talked to Dumbledore about it right afterward, he said not to tell you, he said you were _too young_," Harry made a face, "but I couldn't … I mean, you have to be prepared, don't you?"

"And they got the whole town?"

"The whole town, everything was destroyed."

Westerham … the orphanage … Derkhall Lane … her home for two years … it was all gone.

"Any survivors?"

"None."

Mrs. Starling. All the kids at the orphanage. Gone. Colin and Dennis Creevey. Terrence Jittery, Teri's brother's friend.

Something Harry had said brought her back to her senses. "What do you mean, 'be prepared?'"

He hesitated a moment. "When I asked Dumbledore about it … he said the Death Eaters went to the orphanage first." Her heart nearly stopped. "Looking for – you."

Grace stared at the light coming out of her wand. The light was too bright, her eyes began to water, but she didn't look away. She stared into the almost-white light for a full minute, then said quietly, "Why me?"

"I don't know," Harry said, just as quietly. "I thought … maybe since you were the only one around when Wormtail came to him, a witness, you know? Maybe he wanted to find you …"

"When were the attacks?" she asked softly.

"Sometime in the summer … two weeks ago, I think."

"I wasn't there," Grace whispered. "_I wasn't there_. So why'd they … they didn't have to …"

"That's what Death Eaters do," Harry said, his voice slightly raised. "They _like _doing that. They _like_ killing innocent people …"

"If I'd been there," she muttered distractedly, "they'd have taken me and left everyone else alone."

Harry shook his head. "They'd have killed them all anyway."

A new thought had just come to her. "They wouldn't … follow me _here_, would they?"

"Probably not," Harry said. "Voldemort's afraid of Dumbledore, there's no way him or his Death Eaters would come anywhere near here, even if they could get past all the wards and everything."

Grace nodded. That was the same thing Teri had told her … had it been just this morning? She thought of the book, _Hogwarts, A History_, stashed inside her bag.

"Are you going to be all right?" Harry asked urgently. "You're safe at Hogwarts, okay?"

"Okay," she replied, though shakily.

"I've got to head back to the tower now," he said, "but I'll walk you down to your common room, if you want."

"I can find it on my own, thanks."

Harry smiled a bit, trying the ease the tension. "Come on, you can tell me all about your first day. How was Potions?"

"Ten points from Hufflepuff and detention tomorrow night."

"Wow," Harry said, almost reverently. "I didn't get detention from Snape until … I forget, was it third year or fourth year?"

Grace shook her head at her brother's attempt to change the mood. "I'll tell you about it some other time, okay? I … can I be alone?"

"Sure," Harry said, giving her a quick hug that wasn't comfortable for either of them, opening the mirror, and climbing out.

* * *

It was past midnight, and her roommates' snores filled the air, but Grace had her wand tip lit again and was reading through _Hogwarts, A History._ Teri and Harry had been right, it was nearly impossible to enter the castle at all. You had to have been shown in at least once by the Keeper of the Keys, that was why Hagrid always took the first years to the castle by crossing the lake. And even then, you had to walk onto the grounds unless you knew the password to get in through the fireplaces or by portkey. Apperating didn't work, of course. There were wards placed in the air as well, so that unless the headmaster invited you in, you couldn't fly onto the castle grounds either. 

_Yes_, Grace thought as she put the book away at half past two in the morning, _I am perfectly safe_. _There is no way for Voldemort to get into the castle_.

Hundreds of miles away, Voldemort was laughing.

* * *

A/N: I'm not going to switch back and forth between Grace and Voldemort, and he's not literally laughing, it's just a saying. This story is actually starting to form in my mind! Thanks everyone who's reviewed so far! 

10/10/04: I've just read through some of the reviews and remembered some things I forgot to put in my A/N last time. I know Bowtry sounds a lot like Lockhart, but he'll turn out different. I know the story's moving slowly. I'm trying to balance here, I have another part I want to start around Christmas time ... I know this story (to me at least) seems like it's running in a hundred different directions, but I know where it's going and you'll have to bear with me because that's the way I write. I haven't forgotten about any plotline, trust me. If you don't remember something I bring up, go back and reread some part of the story because most likely that's what I did.

Just another little sidenote: Harry will not be the main focus of the story, so I'm not going to get into shipping or NEWT classes or anything. Yes, he is still the Boy-Who-Lived, but my story is about his sister.


	16. Nighttime at Hogwarts

* * *

A/N: Harry and Grace are NOT a 'thing'. Just thought I'd clear that up. The scene (you'll know it when you get to it) is not romantic in any way, it's a brother comforting his sister. And it takes a toll on Harry, but I'll get to that later. 

Anyway, thanks so much everyone for reviewing this! I'm really grateful for every single review, and I'm finally going to start responding to them, starting from the last chapter on.

I'm REALLY sorry for taking so long to put this up, but a lot of stuff has been going on in my life, plus the fact that it's getting harder and harder to get on the computer. I will try to be quicker with the next one.

Disclaimer: Nothing in JK Rowling's world belongs to me. I am just playing with her creations.

Nighttime at Hogwarts 

_"I'm here for Grace Jorkins' file," came a harsh voice, floating out of nowhere._

_Mrs. Starling looked up from her papers. "I'm sorry, I cannot release that information without the proper authoriz-"_

_The man withdrew a wand, transfigured to look like a gun. "GIVE ME THE FILE!"_

_"I–" Mrs. Starling quickly fumbled for the key to the filing cabinets, but apparently she wasn't quick enough._

_"Avada Kedavra," the man shouted, and Mrs. Starling fell, the tiny key clutched in her outstretched fist._

_"Thank you," the cloaked man muttered sarcastically, as he took the key and began to search through the many files. He looked for several minutes and finally found the one he was looking for._

_The man slipped the file under his cloak just as another matronly woman rushed in. "Emma?" she said. "I heard a-" But she never finished that sentence. _

_"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

_And the second woman lay dead on the floor._

_The man hurried up to the first of the dormitories. It was nearly midnight, and he could hear soft breathing coming through the doors. Avada Kedavra seemed too simple …_

_The man seized a bundle of blankets that were sitting by the door. It would be fun to hear them burn … the children, that is._

_"Aish Ya'achol," he muttered, and the blankets were set ablaze._

_He hurried out of the building. The Dark Lord would be waiting for him just outside the city. He had to meet him there before midnight or else be left to burn with the rest of the townspeople._

"Miss Potter?"

Grace snapped her head up painfully to see Snape's ugly face smirking down at her.

"I had hoped you might prove more adept at staying awake in my class than your cousin," he snapped. "I see I was wrong. Fifteen points from Hufflepuff."

Her heart sank. She had been docked nearly a hundred points this week, all by Professor Snape.

"If we could move back to Potions now …" her teacher continued still in the same nasty tone, "I would like to make sure you have all chopped your ingredients correctly."

They still hadn't attempted to make a potion. The class had spent the first few weeks of school learning the names and properties of common ingredients and were just now moving on to "The Correct Way To Chop Them."

Grace returned to her roots angrily. She'd been thinking of that nightmare again … the one she'd had nearly every night for three weeks, ever since Harry had told her that the Death Eaters had destroyed an entire village just to find her. She wished Mark Parkinson was in her Potions class. He was always nice to her, and the two had built up a fragile friendship. His cousin Marigold was another story, she always had something nasty to say to Grace, but Mark … Mark shouldn't have been a Slytherin.

"I thought I made it quite clear that you were to cut the roots at a five degree angle," Snape quipped as he passed her table. "Those were clearly cut at a forty-five degree angle."

"I'm sorry," Grace muttered insolently. "What would you like me to do about it?"

He seemed surprised for about half a second, but quickly regained his composure. "Detention, my office, tonight at seven," Snape said. "That's what I would like you to do about it."

"See you there," she muttered back. Detentions with Snape had become almost nightly. She was falling a bit behind on her homework, but not too much. Anyway, they only had Potions three times a week - that was only three nights out of the week taken up with detentions.

* * *

"Detention again?" Teri asked Grace as she slid into a seat beside her older friend that day at lunch.

"Of course," Grace replied. "He hates me."

"Why?" Jess asked. "That's stupid. You're just a firstie, you haven't done anything to him."

"He hated my uncle," Grace explained. "He's just bitter, that's all. I wish we'd do something _useful_ in his class. All we've done so far is chop vegetables."

"My sister said he used to start with potions right away," Laurie remarked. "She told me he did potions first week of school with the firsties, until last year. They had this High Inquisitor –"

"-Delores Umbridge –"

"-and she couldn't believe he was doing that. Made him stop."

"But why's he still listening to her?" Grace asked. "Isn't Dumbledore the High Inquisitor now?"

"Of course," Jess said. "But he still has to report to the Ministry. And they're keeping an extra close watch on him. Snape."

"Why?"

Laurie glanced around nervously. "They say he's a Death Eater, or used to be. Fred Weasley saw the Dark Mark on his arm."

Grace stared at her plate. She knew Snape was all right. She knew he was in the Order. She knew how important it was to keep quiet now, not to say anything. Snape needed to keep his cover, and if she blurted out his innocence to Laurie and Jess it would be all over school – and in the Slytherins' hands – in three seconds flat.

She, Grace Potter, was protecting Snape. What an absurd thought.

"Stop insulting him," came a snooty voice from behind her. Grace and Teri turned to see Marigold Parkinson, that ever-present ray of sunshine, standing behind them. "He's a wonderful teacher … I guess you're just too stupid at Potions to appreciate him."

"Say, Mari," Grace retorted, using a nickname that she knew Marigold hated, "I heard you failed that quiz he gave last week on the properties of dittany … I got an O myself, how'd you manage to _fail_?"

"At least I've made a potion before, Potter."

"Oh, is _that_ what happened to your face?"

Marigold stared at her in shock, than turned huffily on her heel and strode back to the Slytherin table. Grace grinned broadly. _Score one for 'That Potter Girl'!_

* * *

Grace rapped sharply on Snape's office door precisely at seven o'clock that evening. No one came to the door. She could hear voices coming from inside – could he was in a meeting and couldn't hear her? She didn't want him to think she was late … maybe she should knock again?

Grace had barely raised her fist to knock on the door again when said door swung open violently.

"I had heard you the first time, Miss Potter," Snape remarked, ushering her in. "Right on time … as usual."

"Who were you talking to?" she asked, casting a glance at the fireplace.

"That is for me to know and you to … not find out, Potter."

"Were they – on our side?"

"I haven't got a clue what you mean, Miss Potter. This is detention, not an interrogation."

She knew he wasn't going to tell her. "What am I doing tonight, Professor?"

"Have a seat, Miss Potter." Snape waited for her to settle herself onto one of the chairs that painfully reminded her of the hard wooden chairs in Mrs. Starling's office.

"School has been in session almost three and a half weeks and you have had detention ten times already. If you are trying to set some sort of school record –"

"You're the one giving the detentions," Grace pointed out, "not me."

"Silence!" Grace pursed her lips. Should she make the 'lock your lips and throw away the key' motion, or would that be too over-the-top? "Miss Potter, I am only human. How do you expect me to come up with an appropriate detention for you three nights out of the week?"

"I don't know."

"And what about your third year, when you have Potions four times a week?" Snape continued. "Or fifth year, when you have me _five_ times a week? Will you sit through three hours of detention every night?"

"Probably. But what am I doing tonight?"

"Nothing."

Her eyes widened. "Nothing?"

"Have the Potters gone deaf now? You heard me correctly, Miss Potter, you will be doing nothing in detention tonight."

"Not lines?"

"Not lines, not chopping potion ingredients, not scrubbing out the cauldrons, nothing."

"So …" she was almost afraid to ask. "Can I go?"

"No," Snape sneered. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? No, you will sit in that chair and do _nothing_ for four hours."

"Four?"

"You heard me correctly, Miss Potter, _four_ hours. I want silence. I have essays to mark."

And with that, Snape picked up his quill and began scratching out corrections onto a student's paper.

Grace stared at her Potions teacher open-mouthed. Four hours of sitting in this stupid chair, in this stupid office, doing … _nothing_? She could just as easily do nothing in front of the common room fire, why did she have to waste an evening here?

But Snape didn't seem to be paying any attention to her. She stifled a sigh and tried to get as comfortable as she could on that hard, wooden chair. She couldn't even use the detention as an excuse for not having her homework done … she wouldn't finish anything tonight … she'd get into so much trouble …

_I can do Transfiguration before breakfast_, she thought. _Charms is easy, I can do that in between classes, we have him last anyway. Potions … I have _Potions_ homework! I'll have to do that when I get back to the common room tonight, whenever that'll be …_

Grace swung one leg awkwardly over the other in an attempt to sit like a lady.

"Stop that," a harsh voice snapped. Grace looked up; Snape had put down his quill at last.

"Haven't I already told you I have work that needs to be done?" he asked. "I want absolute silence in here. Doing nothing means doing _nothing_. At all. Every time I must remind you of this, Miss Potter, two extra minutes will be added onto your punishment. Do I make myself clear?"

She nodded.

"_Nodding_ is doing something, Miss Potter. That's two minutes added onto the original four hours then …"

…………………

Four hours and thirty-six minutes later, Grace was released from her chair and was marching briskly back to the common room. Doing nothing had been the absolute most horrible punishment ever. When Snape said _nothing_, he meant Nothing. He'd barked at her for merely scratching herself.

She couldn't go through another night like that. And now she had homework to catch up on as well.

"No," Grace whispered fiercely. "That's exactly what he wants me to think." _He wants me to stop acting up in class. Every detention's going to be the same thing – until I stop bugging him in class. Well, I'm not going to play along._ "I'm not," she added aloud.

Grace marched angrily out of the dungeons and was halfway across the Entrance Hall when she heard an unwelcome voice – a _very_ unwelcome voice.

"Sneaking around … up in the Towers after beddy-bye time … see what she thinks about _that_, now!"

Filch.

She had barely run more than three steps when he called, "You! Potter! Hold it right there, little miss!"

There was no way out of it, he had already seen who she was … Grace turned slowly to face the livid caretaker.

Filch stood at the top of the marble staircase, glaring down at her.

"I was in deten-"

"No, no, I've had enough of your lies for tonight," Filch muttered wildly, hurrying down the staircase. He had someone with him as well, another student being dragged along behind him in a very uncomfortable fashion. "'_I had detention_ …'" he mocked in a high-pitched voice. "If I had a galleon for every time I'd heard _that_ one I'd be richer than Lucius Malfoy. You wait right there, Potter."

Grace couldn't have moved even if he hadn't had warned her; she was frozen stiff.

As Filch drew nearer, she saw who the unlucky student behind him was: _Harry_.

Harry seemed to recognize her at the same time she recognized him. She saw his face light up, and then his eyebrows furrowed and he gave her a stern look. Grace could read his expression clearly – What are you doing out of bed? She widened her eyes and shrugged her shoulders slightly, trying to portray innocence. From the look on her brother's face, it wasn't working.

"Yes, that's right - come on, you!" Filch snarled as he neared her. He grabbed onto Grace's collar and dragged both her and Harry back across the Entrance Hall and through an out-of-the-way door. And there they were – in Filch's office.

"Sit," he ordered, pointing them to two ratty, falling-apart chairs. The room was lit by a single torch on the wall across from the door, which was casting horrendous shadows over everything. A large row of filing cabinets stood against the far wall. "Sit," he urged them again, giving Harry a little push. Grace followed her brother over to the chairs and sat down gingerly on one of them.

"Mrs. Norris'll watch you while I get Minerva and Seraphina," Filch said nastily, shutting the door with a BANG.

"_What were you doing out of bed?_" the twins asked each other at the same moment.

Harry laughed. "We'll be as bad as the Weasley twins next."

"What?"

"Haven't you ever heard their act? Where they finish-"

"-each other's sentences?"

Their grins quickly faded.

"No, really," Grace insisted. "What were you doing out of bed? Filch said you were in a tower …?"

"The Astronomy Tower," Harry supplied. "He thinks I was trying to jump off it or something … I had to get away from things for a while, you know? I was talking to Nick before –"

"Nick?"

"Nearly Headless Nick. Gryffindor Ghost. Anyway, he said some stuff and I had to get out of everything for a bit." Harry had a faraway look in his eyes. "What about you? Sneaking off to the kitchens after dark?"

"I had detention," Grace repeated shortly. "I … I hadn't been doing my homework lately. I've been doing research on the wards around Hogwarts and didn't have time for it." Why was she lying to Harry?

"Detention with who?"

"Snmhmph."

"Who?"

"Snape," Grace whispered.

"WHAT!" Harry cried. "Already? What – what'd he do to you?" _That's why_, Grace told herself. _He's going crazy. It's … It's my life, why does he care?_ _This is exactly why I haven't told him about any of those other detentions._

"Nothing."

"Nothing what?" Harry said, disbelievingly. "Nothing too mean? Nothing too horrible? Nothing what?"

"_Nothing_. Nothing – anything. At all."

"Did he say anything to you?" Harry asked worriedly. "Anything about Dad or-"

"- Sirius? No. It's all right, really, I can take it," Grace added.

"But …"

"Harry-" she ordered. "Stop. Stop worrying about me. I'm glad you care, but really! You have … your own life, don't you?"

But there were tears in her eyes as she said it, and she knew he could see them.

Harry stared at her, dazed for a moment. Then he slid off his chair and slipped carefully into hers. Their hips pressed together and she once again felt the sensation that the two separate bodies were melting into one.

"You're part of that life," he said simply, and the tears spilled over her cheeks.

Grace tried to stop them, tried to brush them off, but the tears kept coming. Harry pulled her a bit closer to him until her cheek was firmly pressed against his chest. She could feel his heart beating wildly. She knew that the tears would soak his shirt, but he didn't say anything.

The two spent a long, quiet minute just soaking up the silence as Grace's sobbing finally stopped. "If there's something bothering you, you can tell me," Harry said. She nodded, burrowing herself deeper into her brother's chest. She hadn't felt this warm, this loved, in over two years.

_If ever._

Grammy had loved her, she knew that. But Grammy had been somewhat … cold … now that she saw how Harry was and could compare him to … Grammy had loved her, but would never have engulfed her in the embrace she now found herself in …

The thought seemed treacherous to her and made her feel like crying again, but she managed to hold her sobs in.

"If there's something bothering you," Harry repeated.

Grace shook her head, her face still buried in her brother's chest. She pulled her knees uncomfortably up onto Harry's lap, trying to curl up into his body – she knew she was acting like a baby. She could feel a metal spring poking into her side, could hear Harry's fast, haggard breathing, but none of that mattered, nothing mattered except her brother's calm, steady heartbeat.

"There they are, Professors," came Filch's voice. Harry pried her off him and she parted unwillingly from the warmth of her twin's body, looking over at the door and the newcomers: Filch, Minerva McGonagall, and Seraphina Sprout. At a look from McGonagall, Harry left Grace's side and returned to his own chair.

"What has been going on tonight?" asked Professor McGonagall, marching over to the desk and taking control. "Mr. Potter, up in the Astronomy Tower?"

"Grace – wandering around the Entrance Hall at half past eleven?" Professor Sprout added.

"Would either of you care to explain yourselves?" McGonagall said.

"I was in detention with Professor Snape," Grace said quickly, "and he had just let me out."

"That's what the other one told me as well," Filch interjected. "Detention with Professor Bowtry."

"If you are anything like your cousin, Miss Potter," McGonagall began, "I don't think it is unlikely that you would have a detention so close to the beginning of the school year."

"Yes, of course," Professor Sprout said. "I believe we can excuse you. You may go on to bed now. I'll walk you back to the common room, come on now …"

"What about Harry?" she asked, throwing a worried glance toward her brother.

"He'll be up a little while longer," McGonagall said, turning her stern eye on Harry. "The Astronomy Tower is forbidden at all times except for classes, and her had no reason at all for being up there."

"I was thinking," Harry finally said, as though that explained it all.

"I understand, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, "really, I do, but that is still no excuse for being up on the tower after dark. I believe a detention is in order …"

"Come on, then," Sprout whispered, tugging at Grace's arm. She was reluctant to leave her brother's side, but …

Grace let herself be steered out of the uncomfortable chair, out of the office, and back to the painting of the rose. She muttered, "Flower Power," bid goodnight to Professor Sprout and hurried down the long hallway to the firstie dorms.

Her roommates were asleep. Grace crossed the room to her mat and collapsed onto it with exhaustion. Homework could wait …

And soon she saw once again the scene that played out only in her dreams …

_"I'm here for Grace Jorkins' file," came a harsh voice, floating out of nowhere._

_Mrs. Starling looked up from her papers. "I'm sorry, I cannot release that information without the proper authoriz-"_

_The man withdrew a wand, transfigured to look like a gun. "GIVE ME THE FILE!"_

………………

And introducing ... RESPONSES!

ERMonkey, Burner of Cookies - it was, wasn't it?

Kitty-Katty-Pryde - Oh he will, just you wait ... I just thought it was too mean to do it her first day.

Miss Lady Padfoot - thanks!

potterfiend - thanks!

GiGifanfic - I know, I know. Sigh. I hadn't meant for him to be. But then I looked at him and he was so much like Lockhart it's scary. But he will turn out very different from dear ole Gilderoy, trust me. As for Grace being in Gryffindor, I was sick of that old line. You know, how the character's all nervous at the Sorting but ends up getting into Gryffindor anyway? It's one more thing the twins have to work around, on top of everything else. But it feels very strange typing "Ten points from Hufflepuff". Several times I've written in "Gryffindor" and have to go back and change it. I'm trying to keep a good pace, but ... I dunno, that's how I write. Same with the excitement thing. But thanks very much for taking the time to review, I really do appreciate it!

Lynda - more! See?


	17. Destruction

Destruction

The man flung open the front door in early evening. The father and mother and their young daughter all looked up from the television set as one. The woman's eyes widened and she let out a scream.

"So long, enemies of the Dark Lord," the man cried, raising his wand high above his head. "You should have known that housing our enemy would harm you in the end!"

"The boy!" the father cried! "I told you – he brought nothing but-"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

And the father fell silently to the floor.

"L'Hashchit!" cried the man, before Apparating to the edge of town. As he stood by the city limits, he heard a distant explosion.

"L'HASHCHIT!" the man called into the night, casting his spell in the direction of the city. And he turned his back, grinning, to face his master.

"Well done," the master said as more explosions were heard: the city was being destroyed.

Soon the sound of sirens filled the air, but the man and his master were long gone. The only trace of them was a shimmering symbol, a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth, raised in the sky above the wreckage.

A/N: I know, I know, I said it would only be in Grace's POV, but this is ... it's more of a dream? You'll get it when the next chapter comes (which might not be very soon). Thanks so much for reading! Please review.

Disclaimer: Everything in Harry Potter's world belongs to JK Rowling.


	18. View From The Other Side

A/N: I am so sorry for the long wait. I had it ready to go last week, but the site wouldn't let me post it ... ugh, nightmare. I know this story has been moving slowly. Thank you to anyone who's still reading! (personal responses at the bottom)

And now for some really great news! I have a beta!!!!! She's only going to help me with this one story (I think). So everyone give a great round of applause for The Sadistic Master!!!!

Disclaimer: Nothing in Harry Potter's world belongs to me. View From The Other Side 

Grace woke up late the next morning; sunlight was pouring in through the fake windows of the empty dorm. She dressed quickly, realizing with a sinking heart that she had no clean robes, and there was no time to find any others.

_It's going to be a long day_.

Dumbledore had already started the morning announcements when she reached the Great Hall. Everyone looked her way; she smiled vaguely and sat down at the Hufflepuff table next to Teri.

"… Gryffindor will have the field every Monday evening, Hufflepuff every Tuesday evening, Ravenclaw every Wednesday evening, and Slytherin every Thursday evening. Weekend practices will be assigned first-come, first-serve at two hours each. Captains, will you please stay behind for a quick briefing of this year's schedule.

"Hufflepuffs will be informed of a change in their common room password by the end of the day.

"And now, I am afraid, I have some very sad news to relate." There was a horrible sinking feeling in Grace's stomach … she was getting the feeling that she'd had a dream last night – a terrible dream, only she couldn't remember what it had been about. There'd been a lot of screaming.

"There was an attack last night," Dumbledore continued gravely. Grace craned her neck to see the Slytherins' reactions. Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy's cronies, had actually put down their forks and were listening with apparent pleasure.

"An attack in Surrey," Dumbledore was saying. "An entire town, along with its inhabitants, was destroyed. This attack," he raised his voice so that it echoed slightly. Any whispering that might have started during the announcements was immediately hushed. "This attack was ordered by Lord Voldemort." A ripple of sound floated through the students, though no one actually spoke. "Those citizens were, in essence, murdered for not being born magical. This is the kind of evil we must stand against in these times.

"I would like the following students to remain behind, please. Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Padma Patil, Cho Chang, Luna Lovegood, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Ginny Weasley, Seamus Finnigan, Harry Potter, Grace Potter. Everyone else is dismissed. Have a great learning day!"

Grace shared a glance with Teri (Jess and Laurie had gone back to their discussion of McGonagall's new hairstyle). She was nervous, but excited at the same time. Was Voldemort just picking random towns to destroy, or was there a method to his madness? She hoped she would finally find something out.

"Good luck," Teri whispered and squeezed her hand before collecting her bag and hurrying out of the Hall behind Jess and Laurie.

The students that had asked to stay behind made their way up to the staff table. Dumbledore spoke with the Quidditch captains about making sure to sign their teams up for weekend practices and trying to diminish the intensity of the team rivalries. All four of them shrugged their shoulders indifferently.

And then Dumbledore gathered the rest of the students around him. Grace moved forward eagerly, trying to get a spot that was both close to her brother and Dumbledore.

"As you are all aware," Dumbledore said, speaking in a much softer tone, "the attack in Surrey costs thousands of lives."

"Was the whole town destroyed, Professor?" a Hufflepuff girl with red pigtails asked.

"That's the interesting thing, Susan," Dumbledore answered. "The whole town was annihilated – except for one. One survivor."

"One out of several thousand," a blond Ravenclaw girl said in disbelief.

"Exactly." Dumbledore looked older and wearier up close than he did from afar.

"Which town was it?" Grace piped up.

Dumbledore sighed. "The truth," he began, "is a terrible and beautiful thing, and should therefore be treated with caution. I cannot tell you right now."

"_Three guesses which town_," Harry muttered to Ron.

"On that note," Dumbledore continued, "I have nothing more to discuss with you at the moment. We will talk some more about this at our next meeting. You are dismissed. Except! Harry and Grace, wait a moment, please, I wish to speak to you."

The rest of the large group moved off, talking in subdued tones at the thought of all that destruction.

"What meeting?" Grace asked eagerly. "Can I come too?"

"_No_," Harry and Dumbledore said at the same time.

"You're too young," Harry said.

"Dennis Creevey was just a second year when he –"

A look from the two of them shut her up.

"So, Harry," Dumbledore said with a sad, tired smile. "I would like to hear your three guesses!"

"A – Little Whinging, B – Little Whinging, and C – Little Whinging."

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "The entire town was destroyed."

"Figures."

"The – the whole …?" Grace started. "Everyone?"

"All except that one survivor, yes. There are no buildings left standing."

Grace looked down at the floor, trying to imagine the loss. Dudley, Piers, Malcolm Gordan, Mark Evans, Sam Peters, Lanie Peters, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley … SARAH!!!

She started trembling all over, her brain numbing at that final realization. Sarah … the little baby girl … what had she ever done to the Death Eaters … what had any of them done to the Death Eaters to make themselves targets?

"And the survivor, sir?"

"Your aunt."

Grace looked up. "Mrs. Dursley? She – she's the only one? But why?"

"I believe it has much to do with the blood protection I spoke to you about last year," Dumbledore said to Harry. "The act of kindness and the – the aftereffects of the pact … It seems to have protected her as much as it protected you."

"And," Harry said in a voice just above a whisper, "Mrs. Figg?"

"Arabella had been persuaded to spend the night at headquarters last night," supplied Dumbledore. "It seems she was invited to the house by Remus – they are old friends – and dinner ended too late for her to go home."

"So then there were two survivors?"

"'Survivor' generally means that the person survived a tragedy, Harry," said Dumbledore. "And Mrs. Figg wasn't there to experience the attack, so she cannot really be called a survivor. The same applies to your cousin. He was at school during the attack."

Grace was still trembling, and now she was heaving quiet, dry sobs and was rocking back and forth.

Harry pulled her into a hug and pressed his large hands against her back, trying to calm her. "Where's my aunt?" he asked quietly, his voice breaking.

"She's here," Dumbledore said simply. "At Hogwarts. Ready and waiting for you to meet her, if you so choose."

"Of course I don't," Harry said.

"That is perfectly all right, Harry," the old man said. "It is entirely your decision."

"I'm going to be late for class," Harry snapped and stormed off angrily across the Great Hall.

Grace looked up into Dumbledore's wizened face. His bright blue eyes were almost smiling at her, inviting her to ask the thing that was on her mind.

"Professor? They weren't looking for … me, were they?"

The older man frowned a little. "I see your brother has informed you about the summer attacks."

"Yes, sir," Grace said, looking down at the floor. There was no use trying to hide it from him.

"The interesting thing, Grace," Dumbledore said, "is that they might not have been looking for you. You see, before destroying Westerham, the Death Eaters stole your file from the orphanage and therefore determined to where you had been taken. But since school began, certain students in this school could have informed their parents that the child they were looking for was here. The Death Eaters aren't stupid, Grace, they know who you are. I think we can assume that they were not looking for you in Little Whinging."

"But sir," Grace said as she grew hotter and a lump formed in her throat – though she had no intention of crying in front of the headmaster. "Why would they come looking for me in the first place?"

"I … I must admit I don't know. They seem to be following your trail …" Dumbledore trailed off. "Not to worry. Our side has a twenty-four hour guard system set in place at the Burrow, Diagon Alley, and Platform Nine and Three Quarters."

"The Burrow?" Grace said. "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wouldn't get hurt, would they?"

"We will try our best," the headmaster said, "though nothing can be guaranteed in these times. I have never seen this kind of fighting before," Dumbledore added in a softer tone, as if he were speaking more to himself than to Grace. "Even in the last war, and in Grindlewald's rise, it was never as bloody as this so quickly.

"If you have nothing else to ask, I suggest you hurry off to class now."

"Professor, can I join the meeting?" Grace asked desperately.

"I'm afraid your brother was right," the older man said with a sad twinkle in his eye. "You are too young."

"All right, sir," she said. She had expected that kind of response.

"What class do you have now?"

"Transfiguration."

"Tell Professor McGonagall you were speaking to me," Dumbledore said, walking her past the long house tables and out into the Entrance Hall. "She will excuse you."

"Thank you, sir," Grace said, and she slung her bag over her shoulder and hurried up the marble staircase.

She was pounding down the halls towards the classroom, when she tripped over something and slid down a corridor about two floors up from the Entrance halls. Grace landed on her stomach with a groan and started picking up her belongings from where they had been scattered all over the floor. Then –

"Trip Jinx, Potter," came a familiar, sneering voice.

Grace stood up, her stomach filled with cold dread at the sight of Draco Malfoy. He was all alone with no cronies to back him up; but then again – so was she.

"What did the old coot have to say to you, Potter?" he sneered. "Ashamed, are you? All those poor little muggles died so we could get our hands on you …"

_He's lying_, an inner voice told Grace as she stood her ground firmly. _What he's saying doesn't make any sense. He's trying to get to you. Calm down. Relax. Just _don't say anything

"You – you just stand there – you have no idea what it's like!" Malfoy shouted. He pursed his lips together, as though trying to hold back a furious tirade.

And then – he pushed her hard.

Grace gasped as her back hit the stone wall. Malfoy moved in closer, pushing her again.

"Because of you! He couldn't get to you, so – did you ever to think about what goes on on the other side?"

She was slammed into the wall one more time.

"Did you ever see him?"

Grace groaned as softly as she could, trying not to let the bully (for that's all Malfoy really was) see that she was in pain. Malfoy eased up, but didn't back away. He glared down at the younger student in disgust.

"Have you ever seen any of them?"

_I don't know what you're talking about_, Grace wanted to scream at him. _Leave me alone!_ But she didn't. Grace slid to the floor, her knees pulled up to her chest to protect herself.

"You've never – you have no idea –"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Grace whispered breathlessly.

That was it: Malfoy grabbed both her wrists in one hand and twisted them around so they were held firmly and uncomfortably behind her back. He rolled her over so that her face was pressed into her knees.

"THEM!" he shouted. "You've never seen them! Coming home from every meeting all bruised and … and bloody because they've failed him. Never seen your own father stuck in bed for days afterwards. Never been told you can't see your own father because he's too proud to have his precious son see him in pain. Never!

"And you know why he's like that? Because _you_ and _your side_ keep getting away with everything."

Grace mumbled something into her knees.

"What's that?" snapped Malfoy, pulling a handful of her hair up so her face was lifted.

"Don't blame – He didn't need to … involved … his choice …"

He let go in disgust. "You don't understand! It doesn't work like that – you'd better hope I never see you again, Potter, it'll be worse next time!"

And he sent a kick towards her side and ran off.

Grace lay curled up in a ball on the floor for a long time. But there was no escaping anyone once the bell rang.

"Grace!"

It was Mark's voice. Grace heard him running over to her over everyone else's noise.

"You all right?"

"No."

"What happened?"

There was no response.

"Should I take you to the Hospital Wing?" Mark asked anxiously.

"Please," Grace replied, looking up at her friend – her friend!!! – for the first time. Many of the older students were staring at the two of them, a Slytherin boy helping a Hufflepuff girl up to the Hospital Wing.

Responses:

Miss Lady Padfoot: the last chapter was one of those "write-em-up, post-it-up" kind of things, if you know what I mean. I didn't want to include it with this chapter. It's a dream Grace had ... though you might be curious to know why Grace was having dreams about Voldemort, since she has no real connection to him.

Aelita-Fan-426: Happy belated birthday! Thanks for reviewing!

ERMonkey, Burner of Cookies: I know!!! I felt so bad, but really, Snape is such a nasty guy! Not to mention that Grace hasn't exactly been on her best behavior in his class.

A/N: I really will try to get the next chapter up a bit more quickly.


	19. Making Plans

A/N: Well, it's actually been less than a month this time! No, really, I need to update more often. I've got vacation coming up in ... 1 WEEK!!!!! ... so I'll be able to do it then.

Warning: this chapter is VERY fluffy. I got kind of tired of writing "heavy". Don't worry, it'll be back to angst as usual next chapter.

Thanks so much to the reviewers from last chapter, Miss Lady Padfoot and Aelita-Fan-426. Thanks as always to THE Sanity Master for beta-ing.

NB: You don't have to read the whole thing, just skip down about halfway down the page ... thanks! :)

Disclaimer: Nothing in the Harry Potter universe belongs to me.

Making Plans

"Come on," Mark whispered, pulling at her wrists. "Can you get up by yourself?"

Grace slowly got to her feet. Mark held her elbows and steered her up three flights of stairs to the Hospital Wing.

"Mercy! Three weeks here and come to me already!" exclaimed Madam Pomfrey loudly. "Just like your cousin, you are. Get her over to that bed, Mr. Parkinson, and let me have a look at her."

Madam Pomfrey hurried into her office. Mark helped Grace over to the bed the nurse had pointed out.

"I'm not that bad," Grace muttered. "Just … it was a shock … I mean …"

"Who did it?" Mark demanded. "Why would anyone want to …?"

"I don't know," Grace lied as Madam Pomfrey bustled back in, her first aid kit and a piece of parchment and quill trailing in the air behind her.

"Let's see, Miss Potter," she muttered, forcing Grace to lie down. "All better? All right … this was the work of an older student, I presume?"

"I –" her feeble attempts at answering were stopped by Madam Pomfrey shoving a spoonful of some potion into her mouth. Grace choked as she tried to swallow.

"Careful now … easy does it …"

"Mark!" Grace sputtered. "Could you get my cousin for me? He's supposed to be in Charms second period …"

"Right," her friend muttered, and ran off.

"Absolute insanity!" Madam Pomfrey was saying as she marked something down on the parchment. "They're grown children, they should know better than to push the little ones around-"

"I'm not little!"

"Mmmm," murmured the nurse, neither agreeing nor disagreeing as she screwed the stopper back onto potion jar. "You can be sure I'll be speaking to the headmaster about this. He's got to put a stop to it!

"There now, you should be feeling the effects of the Pepper Up soon, I'll be back in a few minutes with a bruising salve, doesn't look like there'll be much but it can't hurt …"

And she bustled back into the office, leaving Grace alone in the infirmary. She waited anxiously on the bed for a few minutes, looking at the portraits on the wall. And then there was a bubbling, burning sensation. She felt as if a bubble was rising in her throat, as if she was about to throw up – and then her face grew hot and steam gushed out her ears.

_Ah, of course. Pepper Up Potion. Ugh_.

"Gracie?"

She looked over to the door where Harry and Mark were entering. Harry had his bag slung over one shoulder and was quickly making his way towards the bed where she sat.

"Merlin, what happened?"

"Merlin?"

"I found her in the hallway near History of Magic," Mark piped up, ignoring Grace. "She wouldn't tell me what happened."

Harry stood awkwardly in front of his sister, staring down at the younger boy. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Mark Parkinson."

"Any relation to Pansy?"

Mark cringed. "She's my cousin."

Harry shook his head before turning his attention back to Grace. "Who _did_ this to you?"

She couldn't answer him. She began to wonder why she had sent Mark for her brother in the first place.

"Would you mind leaving us alone for a little?" Harry said to the Slytherin boy.

"Uh …okay," Mark said uneasily, looking from Grace to Harry. He seemed a little in awe of her brother. "You sure you'll be all right?"

"Yeah," Grace smiled. "Thanks so much for helping me out."

"Any time," Mark replied, then hurried out of the Hospital Wing.

When he was gone, Harry made sure Madam Pomfrey wasn't listening, then asked in an urgent whisper, "Who did this to you?"

"I fell down the stairs?"

"Come on," Harry whispered. "Who did this, and why?"

Grace sighed and looked away. "Malfoy," she said finally. Harry let out a hiss of breath. "I don't know why he did, he wasn't making very much sense … it was more … I dunno, venting anger? It could have been much worse, though, so don't get all exci-"

"_Don't get all excited_?" Harry snapped back. "Malfoy just beat you up, and you don't want me to get excited?"

"You don't know what it's like for him –"

Harry just stared at his sister.

"You'll feel terrible tomorrow, even if you feel all right now," he said, abruptly changing the subject. "Trust me, these things tend to sneak up on you. But Madam Pomfrey'll make it easier on you than most people have it."

"Harry-"

"- If you're sure you're all right, I've got some business to take care of …"

"Harry-" Grace snapped as her brother made his way down the aisle between the rows of beds. But he paid no attention.

The door slammed shut behind him. Grace settled back, leaning against the stone wall. She picked at a loose thread on her robes. There shouldn't be any loose threads, Madam Malkins' was supposed to have better quality than this …

She wasn't badly beaten up – even Madam Pomfrey didn't seem that worried, which was quite a statement if you took into account the school nurse's tendency to overreact about everything. So … why did she feel so …depressed?

_Dudley, Piers, Malcolm Gordan, Mark Evans, Sam Peters, Lanie Peters, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley … SARAH!!!_

Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, G-d, how could she have forgotten about her? Sarah … she wasn't even two years old …

She could feel tears beginning to prickle at the corners of her eyes, but – NO – she wouldn't cry again, not after sobbing like a baby last night …

Like a baby …

Sarah'd never have a chance to grow up –

Anger quickly overpowered her sadness. Grace felt a mad desire to rip, to kill, to tear apart that Death Eater that had murdered an innocent _baby_ …

She felt around in her pocket until she found her wand. Eleven and a half inches, maple wood and unicorn hair. So simple. Wood, and a magical substance. It was nothing more than a stick really. How could a simple stick _kill_ people?

She pulled the wand out of her inside pocket, clutching to it like a lifeline. All she'd manage to do in class so far was cast simple spells – she'd only cast an elementary Switching Spell the day before.

How much power could one little stick hold? To … to kill, to force people to feel pain, to cause suffering for thousands of people. The power that had killed Grammy and Sarah was the same power that could have saved them.

It all depended on your thoughts, she figured. Your intentions. The magic had to be harnessed. Whether for good or for bad, it all depended on the spellcaster.

_I'll never use magic for bad – never_! She was gripping her wand so tightly that several yellow and black sparks shot out of its tip.

"Miss Potter!"

Grace looked up to see Madam Pomfrey hurrying across the Hospital Wing towards her. She realized for the first time that she was breathing fast and that each breath she took hurt so much that it felt like her lungs were about to burst.

"Calm down, you have to relax now," Madam Pomfrey said, pulling Grace's wand out of her grasp and laying it on the bedside table. "The Pepper Up requires that you remain calm for at least fifteen minutes afterwards! Just lie there and _don't do anything_!"

Grace smirked as Professor Snape's detention the night before came back to her.

"Don't worry, I'm good at that," she murmured. She swung her legs up onto the bed and settled back to wait the required fifteen minutes.

Professor Binns hadn't seemed to notice her absence when Grace tiptoed into his class twenty minutes later. She quickly took the seat nearest the door – next to Mark Parkinson.

"Sorry I didn't come back in," he whispered as she pulled parchment and a quill from her bag. "Snape made me go back to class. You all right?"

"Pretty well," she whispered back.

Mark grinned and turned back to the front of the classroom, where Binns was droning on. "You know, last week I was sitting in this class the whole time and he didn't notice. Came over to me afterwards and asked why I'd missed his class."

"Pathetic. I used to like History."

Mark pulled a face.

"No really," Grace continued. "My Gram used to make it really interesting when she taught me. History's not so bad, you just have to picture it like a storybook and then … it clicks."

"Or a play," Mark whispered back. "You could write your notes as a dialogue, getting in all the information –"

"Yeah, I know someone who tried that once," Grace said excitedly. "It was really easy, and he remembered everything really well."

"You want to do that? Write a skit about History of Magic?"

Grace looked towards the front of the classroom once again before replying with a grin. "Sure."

During the break, the two of them reviewed their notes from History of Magic.

"_International Confederation of Wizards: How dare you undermine our authority? We are the most important governing body in the wizarding world! We are so great that- _

_"Ogden Livingston: You are nothing but pompous windbags! I killed my daddy so I could rule over you and you want to stop me? _

_"ICW: YES! _

_"OL: Well, you can't stop me! I shall rule the world! MWAHAHAHA! _

_"Percival Crankton: Stupefy! _

_"ICW: Yay! Ogden's down! Surround him, suck out his soul, KILL HIM! Percival, now you are our ruler!"_

Grace grimaced as she looked over at Mark, who was smiling broadly. "Are you sure that's what Professor Binns said?"

"Wasn't it?"

"How should I know, I wasn't paying attention!"

She sighed. "I guess it's not that bad, all things considered. What do you say? Wanna perform?"

"_I can't believe we're actually going to do this_!"

"Relax," Grace said, patting Mark encouragingly on the arm. "It's not like there's anyone around."

True enough, they had barricaded themselves into an empty classroom during dinner that night. No one would walk in on them.

"I know," Mark said, "but I still feel really stupid. Won't they notice we're missing?"

"_Relax_! I'm telling you, doing this works. You know the kid I told you about, who wrote all his notes in dialogue?" Mark nodded. "He got all A's."

"I don't want A's, I want O's."

Oh. Of course. "A's in the Muggle World translate into O's in the wizarding world, Mark," Grace said with a sigh.

"Oh. Nifty."

She grinned. "_What_?"

"Nifty."

"Who taught you to speak like a Muggle?" she said, grinning so hard she thought her face would break.

"Picked it up from some teenagers at Diagon Alley. Tried to go into the Weasleys' shop, but Mum wouldn't let me. They were hanging around outside … why?"

Suddenly, the dam burst and Grace started giggling. "That phrase is about … I dunno … twenty years old!"

Mark blushed.

"All right," Grace said as she regained control of herself. "Shall we start?"

Mark nodded and jumped into action, reading off the scripts and gesturing like a speaker. "It is my belief that wizarding society is falling by the wayside. Our children are less educated than the Muggles. Commerce is an especially big concern of mine. So therefore, I, Odgen Livingston, am going to take over the International Confederation of Wizards and become Ruler Supreme!!!!! Thank you."

"Ahhhh!" Grace cried, throwing her hands over her face. "Ogden Livingston is a tyrant!" she continued in an unnaturally high voice. "He's already made a shambles out of being the English Minister of Magic, and now he wants to rule every wizarding community in the world?"

"We're doomed!" Mark chimed in. "Who will save us now?"

"I am Percival Crankton!" Grace proclaimed in her best hero voice. "I vow to stop Ogden Livingston from taking over! He killed all of my uncles, so I will not rest until I get revenge on him …"

"Yay! Ogden's down! Surround him, suck out his soul, KILL HIM! Percival, you now are our leader!"

"Done!" Grace cried happily as she collapsed onto the floor. "That was exhausting."

Mark sat down next to her. "What did Dumbledore talk to you about this morning?" he asked quietly. "Before you got beaten up."

It took Grace a moment to answer. "It was about the attack. I knew some of the people who'd died …" _Try most of them_.

"I'm sorry …"

"I know. You know all those sixth years?"

"Harry Potter?"

"Yeah. Dumbledore said they were all going to a meeting tonight. I … I wanted to go …"

"You think we could?" Mark asked excitedly.

"Sure! I know where they're having it and everything – my cousin told me."

"Where is it then?"

"The Room of Requirement," Grace said as though she was spitting back a textbook. "Seventh floor, opposite a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy …"

"Who?"

"We do him in third year. He was clubbed to death by a bunch of trolls he'd been trying to train for the ballet."

"_What_?"

"Yeah, crazy, huh?" Grace sat up eagerly. "You know, we really could do it! Only … we'd need an Invisibility Cloak or something. Harry has one, but there's no way he'd let us borrow it for this."

"I know a kid in third year who's got one," Mark said, getting to his feet. "Come on, let's go ask him for it."

_Secret info, here we come_! Grace thought as she ran down to the Slytherin Common Room after her friend.

* * *

A/N: Aw, come on, please review before I have to beg! 


	20. Of Kin and Kindred

A/N: Profuse apologies for more than a year without updates. Sue me. Who's reading this, anyway? In any case, this chapter is dedicated to my very good friend sweetsmile613 whose bugging and urging finally made me post this chapter. I know it's shrot, but there will hopefully be more to follow. Enjoy.

Of Kin and Kindred

_Slytherins_, Grace thought disgustedly, _are only too eager to help others break rules_.

Mark had refused to let her into the common room with him while he procured an Invisibility Cloak so they could sneak up into the D.A.'s meeting with Professor Dumbledore. She had hidden herself behind a statue of a grim-looking witch with crossed eyes and a moustache, nervously waiting for Mark to return. Torchlight had illuminated the dark dungeon walls in a creepily terrifying way; the walls had looked like the walls of an underwater grotto. Grace had felt like the walls would drown her if she remained down in the Slytherin dungeons for too long.

Soon, someone had crept out of the Slytherin common room, but it hadn't been Mark. It was Malfoy. Grace had retreated further into the shadows behind the cross-eyed witch, forcing both her shoulder blades against the stone wall behind her. Malfoy hadn't seen her, thank goodness, and he passed by without sparing a glance at the cross-eyed witch.

Mark had rushed out moments afterwards.

"That was quick," Grace remarked as they raced back upstairs, where dinner was almost over. "It only took five minutes?"

"He owes me a favor," Mark shortly answered. Then, in response to Grace's stare, he elaborated, "The Cloak belongs to another one of my cousins. I think my second cousin once removed on my mother's side. Anyway, his whole family stayed at my house this past summer. I helped him worm his way out of a dinner party he _really_ didn't want to attend."

"Oh?"

"His parents were meeting with the parents of another girl to discuss their betrothment."

Grace could see Mark's face better now that they'd left the dark dungeons and reached the well-lit Entrance Hall. "I thought he's only thirteen!"

Mark nodded with his chin thrust forward. "He is."

Grace nodded. "O-kay. Well. The meeting isn't going to start until eight, so we've got an hour or so until we have to be upstairs. What do you want to do?"

"Maybe we should get something to eat first and then wait in the corridor outside the meeting room –"

"Hi, Grace!"

Grace abruptly halted and tried to stand in front of Mark so he would have time to hide the Invisibility Cloak. "Hi, Teri!"

Teri stood alone next to the giant double doors that led into the Great Hall, _The Advanced Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ clutched tightly in her arms. She glanced at Mark.

"Why do you have an Invisibility Cloak?"

Grace sighed. "Come on," she muttered, grabbing Teri's arm. "We can't explain here. Let's go find an empty classroom …"

* * *

After introducing Mark to Teri, Grace sat down on the stone floor of the classroom and motioned for the other two to join her. Once arranged on the floor in a crude sort of triangle, Mark got right down to business.

"Look, Teri, this is kind of –"

"-secret," Grace cut in. "We can trust you, right? We don't want anyone to know we have this Invisibility Cloak."

Teri looked confused. "You're not using it for anything _bad_, are you?"

"No!" Mark said.

"Not bad," added Grace. "What we're doing isn't bad, but it's against the rules."

Teri smiled. "Well, that goes without saying. The Cloak makes you invisible. You wouldn't need it if you were doing something 'legal'."

"Right."

"It's 'illegal', but for a good cause," Mark said.

"What is this _good cause_?"

"Um …"

"Can't say," said Grace. "Top secret. That sort of thing."

"Did a professor ask you to do this?"

Mark took out the Cloak from his roomy pocket and laid it out on the floor between them. "Sorry, Teri, but we really can't say. We're not trying to hide anything –"

"– yes you are," she pointed out. "'Top Secret.' 'Can't say.'"

"Teri –"

"I'll go to Professor Dumbledore and tell him that you two are sneaking around invisible," Teri said.

"No, you won't," Grace said.

"Will too!"

"You can't," Mark pointed out. "Because then we'll tell him that you – oh. You probably haven't done anything worth blackmailing."

"It's like this, Teri," Grace wildly invented, trying to cover Mark's blunder. Teri turned an unamused eye on her and raised her eyebrows. "Harry's aunt survived Voldemort's terrible attack last night."

"Oh?"

"Yes," she said. "She's here in Hogwarts right now. I thought she must be really upset after everything that's happened. She lost her husband and her daughter. I just wanted to see her, that's all." Teri didn't look convinced.

_I wouldn't be convinced_, Grace thought. _She doesn't know that Mrs. Dursley's my aunt. Harry and I haven't worked out what to tell people about how we're related yet. He didn't even say which side we're supposedly related on. We really should talk about it. So. I'll be vague._ "She's my relative too," Grace reminded her friend. "I want to see her."

"Grace doesn't know where her aunt is," Mark continued, quickly picking up the thread of the story. "She asked me what I thought she should do. I helped her borrow an Invisibility Cloak. We were planning to go up to the Hospital Wing and follow Madame Pomfrey when she goes to check on Grace's aunt."

"How did you know Madame Pomfrey would go to see Grace's aunt?"

"She knows how to treat shock," Grace said.

"We thought she'd go help Grace's aunt deal with everything that's happened today," Mark finished.

"Oh." Teri turned back from Mark to Grace. "Why didn't you just ask Professor Dumbledore or Professor Sprout? I'm sure they would have let you visit your aunt."

"I thought so, but I wasn't sure."

"Come," Teri beckoned, stretching out an arm to help Grace up. "Put the Cloak away, Mark, and we'll go to Professor Sprout."

They both protested, but in the end had no choice but to follow Teri out of the empty classroom, into the Great Hall, and up to the Head Table. Grace had no choice but to ask to visit an aunt that she had no interest in seeing.

* * *

"Are you sure you want us coming in with you?" Teri asked as the three of them stood outside the warded door that led to Mrs. Dursley's private room. "Shouldn't this be a ... family time?"

"Yes," Grace said defiantly. "Please. Both of you come with me."

"Shall we go in?" Mark suggested.

Without asking first, Teri raised her hand and knocked three times loudly on the door.

From inside came a muffled voice. "_Go away_!" it quietly shrieked. "_Leave me alone_!"

Grace took a breath and called back, "It's me! It's Grace! Can I come in?"

"_No_," Mrs. Dursley replied mordantly.

"Please, Mrs., um," Teri began shakily. "Grace has wanted to see you all day."

"_Have you_?"

"… Yes," Grace said. "I – I was so, _so _sorry to hear about everything that happened last night."

"_You would be upset_," sniffed Mrs. Dursley. "_I can't live my life without something magical popping up every two seconds, can I? Lily, Harry, letters, owls, fireplaces, floating puddings, broken bars, Marge, the living room, Dementors, you, Vern_–"

The three of them heard the sound of something very delicate, very expensive, and very breakable being smashed against the door. They all jumped away.

"Grace, is your aunt a squib?" Mark asked in a whisper.

Teri, of course, had to try again. "Please, Mrs. Grace's Aunt, can't you let us in–"

The door flew open just then and Mrs. Dursley appeared in the doorway, blonde hair frizzling everywhere, not a single one in place. Her eyes, and a good portion of her face, were red; her cheeks were pale. Not a good combination.

"Mrs. What Did You Call Me?"

Grace couldn't hold her gaze steady as three pairs of eyes turned up the heat in the drafty corridor. She'd never noticed just how many cracks and crevices could be found on the stone floors.

"But you're …" Teri said softly. "You're Grace's … aunt, right?"

"I only have one nephew." Mrs. Dursley glared. "And no nieces. Get Dumbledore," she hissed. "Get out of here and get Dumbledore."

Mark quickly checked his watch. "He's in a meeting."

"I don't care. Get him out of it."

"The teachers are allowed, aren't they?" Mrs. Dursley pressed. "Find one of them and tell them to get Dumbledore out of that meeting and up to my room _right this instant_ or else they'll have to clean up my mess after I do something …_drastic_."

"Please, ma'am–"

"If Dumbledore does not come up here immediately and explain what in the name of all things holy is going on, I am going to – to _hang myself_, you hear me?"

"Ma'am–"

Mrs. Dursley glared at the three of them, but at Grace most of all. "Now."

It only took them one more second to make up their minds. In the next instant, Mrs. Dursley drew her hand back as though to slap one of them; Grace, Mark, and Teri sprinted out of there as if Mercury himself had granted them wings.

* * *

A/N: Leave a review! 


End file.
